Long Black Gloves
by Midnight Auroua
Summary: It shouldn't mean so much to her. She had bigger issues to deal with. But Rogue couldn't take her mind off the long black gloves Remy LeBeau gave her. And she used to criticize his priorities. Sequel to Knee High Socks.
1. The Prologue

**Well, hello there. **

**I'm back. With a sequel. I didn't think I would do one for a very long time. This was supposed to be a story all on its own, but the more I thought about it, I realized that it would make more sense to have a sequel. Too many things were set up in the last one. It would be easier to work off of the last fic, Knee High Socks, rather than struggling with starting from scratch. So here we are with a sequel. And look! It's gone up a rating. Don't worry. It won't get too graphic. But the violence has gone up a notch. But, on the plus side, so has the sexiness with Remy. **

**So I give you the prologue. **

**I might have a new chapter up within the next day or so. Family issues and final exams and whatnot. But summer is almost here so I can fully commit to this story. I would give the threat of "I won't be able to update very often so don't look for it" but I never seem to be able to follow through on that threat so...you know. So here's the epilogue. Please enjoy.**

**XXXXX**

It was an awful feeling.

White hot pain shot through her body. It was the kind of pain that was so potent that it made her know that she was alive. Because if she were dead, she wouldn't have to endure such searing agony. The pain, the agony, worked its way to the base of her spine to the roots of her hair. She was alive, alright.

Death wouldn't hurt this much.

Conversely, the pain that stripped the air from her lungs was also making her acutely aware of the fact she was dying. The aching in her chest didn't subside but she could feel the life draining from her. She had faced pain before. Had tasted death. But never like this.

It was never this bad.

Behind her, a chest heaved. A heart stuttered. A hand tightened against her waist. He was so close. They were pressed together.

He was always so warm. Whereas her skin, no matter the time of year, was always chilled, he ran hotter than most. It was all that energy twisting within him. He was always so warm. It was assuring.

He wasn't warm now.

She could feel the warmth slowly fade from him. But she could at least feel his sluggish heartbeat moving almost in time with hers. That heartbeat was heaven. That heartbeat was her anchor. As long as that heart was beating, that meant that there was a chance everything would be okay.

In retrospect, she should have known better.

She thought she could fight it. Make herself not care so much. Maybe save some small part of her heart for herself. But, long ago, it had been stolen. She didn't want him to steal her heart completely. She wanted to have something for herself. Just in case. She had stolen his heart though, and she hadn't intended on giving it back. But now, as his heart stammered in time with hers, she knew she was too far gone.

_Thump….thump thump…..thump…thump…thump thump…._

Remy LeBeau had stolen her heart and all it took was being tortured by a psychopathic geneticist for her to figure it out.

Sometimes, Rogue decided, she was really dense.


	2. The Habits

**I'm baa-aack. With another chappie for you. Kinda a fluff but still necessary chapter. **

**Zany: yes, it's a real sequel. Not like a weird spin-off one. An actual, red blooded sequel. **

**Everyone else, thank you for your reviews. The first chapter was like, five words long but it received such enthusiastic reviews. It's even already been favorited. Your faith in me is so touching. It also adds a lot of pressure to be good but I'm okay with that. I just hope I can live up to your expectations. So here's chapter two.**

**XXXXX**

The glamorous life of an X-Man.

Rogue sifted through her drawers in search of something to wear that evening. She smiled a little, pleased that she had more options in clothing now that she had gained control. And now that she had a bedroom all to herself, she also pleased at all the closet space she had.

Because of some…strained relationships, some of the girls had traded roommates. Now, in order to avoid any more fights and broken noses, Jean was rooming with Kitty. It was good fit because to the two had pretty much formed a club based solely on not liking Emma Frost. And in regards to the white witch, Rogue feared she would have to room with her but she got lucky. Because Betsy—aka Psylocke—moved into the mansion. The Professor thought having the two telepaths who had faced the Hellfire Club in the same room was a good idea.

Rogue thought so too because now she was the only occupant of her bedroom.

One would assume, having a room to herself, the reclusive Goth would be spending more time alone. Quite the opposite actually.

Because now she had her very own Remy LeBeau.

Before they were a couple, the man was practically a shadow. Now that they were "officially" together, they were attached at the hip. So all that time she could have spent alone was spent sneaking Remy LeBeau in and out of her room.

Despite him being a "master thief" or whatever it was he was always bragging about, she was pretty certain that Logan was on to them. But he was letting them continue with their late night rendezvous because she seemed happy and had yet to get pregnant (yay birth control). It also gave him the ability to interrupt their tender moments whenever he wanted because hey, he was letting him sneak into her room. They had no room to complain.

Stupid Logan.

It wasn't even like they had a lot of alone time anyway. It is so incredibly hard to find a singular moment when there was a mansion of teenagers with boundary problems and an angry man with claws playing mother hen. But that was what tonight was for.

Time alone.

So Rogue continued to shift through her drawers, trying to find a suitable outfit. When she opened her first drawers, she stumbled upon her gloves.

She hadn't needed them for a couple of months now. Force of habit had her pulling them on in the morning before she remembered she didn't need them. It was only when Remy grabbed her hand and questioned it did she realize she had even done it. So she took them off and put them away.

It made her feel naked.

Which was stupid. Winter was approaching fast and so she had to wear more layers. No time for shorts and sleeveless shirts. But without her gloves, she felt like she was very exposed. It was not a sentiment she shared with anyone. Just one of those emotional journeys she had to deal with on her own, or whatever the cliché was.

Now, Rogue was looking into her drawers. And in these drawers were her under garments. And gloves. There were her sturdy gloves for when she went on missions. Her formal occasion gloves. Her day to day use gloves. Her back up gloves in case something happened to her other ones. Wrist length gloves. Black lace gloves. Oddly enough, fingerless gloves. Elbow length gloves. Red gloves. Black gloves. White gloves. Even a pair of green gloves.

She almost had as many gloves a she did socks.

She still needed socks. Only now she didn't need the gloves anymore.

Outside, she heard the thundering sound she came to associate with his motorcycle. Which meant he was here. Which meant she had about two seconds to pull on a shirt and lace up her shoes before Remy got in the door. And if she wasn't ready when he got into the garage, then he would come look for her. And, no matter her state of dress, he would pick her up, toss her over his broad shoulders, and carry her out the house.

She learned her lesson the first time.

Picking up a jade shirt that "complimented her eyes" according to Remy, Rogue stuffed her feet into her shoes and ran out the door. But before she left, she grabbed her old, wrist length black gloves.

Old habits die hard.

XXXXX

If one were to ask Remy LeBeau to make a list of his favorite things, he would have great difficulty composing said list. Which was odd, because he was a man who organized most things with a series of odd, barely comprehensible lists.

Lists about things to steal. Lists of things he wasn't going to steal. Lists of things to do to irritate others. List of things children should remember**. Lists of all sorts of sexual, chocolate and sock related things he wanted to do with Rogue. Lists about lists.

Remy LeBeau liked having lists. But a list ranking his favorite things in the world? That'd be hard.

Obviously, he liked stealing. Hell, he loved it. But then there was driving fast. He liked that too. And he liked stealing. And sex. He really liked sex. And chocolate. That was pretty amazing. But he also enjoyed annoying people for his entertainment. And stealing. And sex. And fighting. And stealing.

Sex. Did he mention sex? Because he _really _liked sex.

But, there were only a few things he liked more than the aforementioned items on his list. The first thing had to be, obviously, Rogue. But then there was kissing Rogue. And confusing Rogue. So when he got to do all three at one time?

Remy LeBeau was a happy man.

He had her, pinned to a wall in the garage. They had an exhilarating ride through the streets of Bayville on his bike before stopping off at a restaurant they frequented. He was complete gentleman all night. He opened doors. Paid the bill (but conceded when she insisted on handling the tip). Gave her a heads up before he took off at break neck speeds on his bike. Helped her off his bike like a gentleman. So how does he end a night full of kindness?

By pushing her against the wall and kissing her senseless.

Yup. That's just what he did.

And she was confused. He knew she was expecting a goodnight kiss. Because he had been a good guy all night. What she wasn't expecting was him to…how would the romance novels phrase it?

Strip the air from her lungs with one searing and sensual kiss? Something to that effect.

Not that she seemed to have any problem with it. No, no. Her initial surprise only lasted for a few seconds before she took a handful of his hair in his hands and pulled him even closer. He sighed happily into her mouth.

Kissing was fun.

So was molding his mouth against hers and twining tongues in what romance novels would describe as a "sensual dance." He liked the contrast of being sweet all night and then kiss her in a not so nice way. In fact, the last way their kiss could be described would be "nice." Which was good. Because being nice could only be so much fun.

So he kissed her vigorously, purposely trying to make her head spin and her knees shake. He loved feeling her heart flutter in time with his. She was always perfectly in sync with him. Which proved to be a slight problem because she was returning his enthusiastic kiss with equal zeal. So his head was spinning and his knees were shaking just as bad as hers.

He loved it. Every single moment, he loved it.

He managed to pry his lips from hers in order to drag them along her jawline before dipping down toward her neck. She inhaled sharply when he bit down softly on the skin between her neck and shoulder. He sucked in a breath himself when she let her hands snake beneath his shirt so she could become reacquainted with the stomach muscles she was so fond of.

Washboard abs: a blessing for both of them.

Rogue tugged on his hair once more, urging him to bring his mouth back to hers. He complied only slightly, turning his attention instead to her ears. Ears. Her weak spot. The instant way to make her knees become jelloy and pliant in his arms.

When in doubt, go for the ears.

When he sucked gently on her earlobe, she made a soft sound that typically translated to "Good job. Keep up the good work, Remy." Almost impulsively, her leg jerked forward. He didn't give her time to let it go back down. He took hold of her thigh and hooked it around his hip before closing the limited space between them. She growled softly and he just about lost it then and there.

Unfortunately, he never had a chance to test his self-control.

"Break it up you two," a voice called from the other end of the garage. Groaning in a not sexy way, Remy and Rogue looked up. Logan stood at the other end of the room, a beer dangling casually from his hands. "Dinner is ready."

"We already ate," Remy said as calmly as possible, not releasing Rogue's thigh. Partly because he had no shame. Partly because they were accustomed to being interrupted, embarrassment and modesty long ago went out the window.

Logan shrugged. "Eat again. Now get your asses inside."

Without another word, he turned and walked out the room. Only when the door was shut firmly behind him did Remy release his paramour with a heavy sigh. He smiled at her wistfully. Her cheeks had colored but she managed to muster a small smile for Remy. After a pregnant moment, Remy offered his most charming smile, bowing lavishly.

"Shall we go, _Cherie_?" he asked, offering her his hand.

She rolled her eyes at the theatrics she pretended not to like. "Let's go."

It was only when he laced his fingers with hers did he notice something was off. He lifted her hand to his face, examining her it curiously. He pouted.

"Why are you still wearin' these gloves, Roguey? I wanna feel your hands wit' mine."

She allowed for him to pull off the gloves and tuck them away into his pockets. Then they smiled at each other, heading for the entrance of the mansion. Honestly, if Remy LeBeau weren't a natural skeptic, he would have thought that the world was right and nothing could go wrong. That life was good and maybe things were looking up for good.

But he saw the brief flash of sadness in Rogue's eyes when he pulled the gloves off and knew it was time for the trouble to brew.

Trouble, a constant companion he always seemed to be courting. It was like he couldn't resist finding it and seducing it.

Old habits die hard, after all.

**XXXXX**

****how many of you get it? **

**Anyway, will update rather soon. At least I hope so. Anyway, review away. They encourage me!**

**-M.A. **


	3. The Flashback

_ At only seventeen, Remy LeBeau had learned a lot of things. _

_ He learned that lock picking was a delicate art. He learned that crawling through air ducts inconspicuously was quite difficult. He learned that a charming smile could get him a long way. He learned that if he sounded official, people would be more willing to forfeit information. He learned that thieves like to hold grudges. He learned that just about everything had a price. He learned that if you had the money and you had connections, you could call the LeBeaus. And he learned that if you really had the money, you would get the best of the best. _

_ The Thieves Guild's prince. Le Diable Blanc. _

_ Remy LeBeau. _

_ At only seventeen, Remy LeBeau learned one other thing: Canada was cold. _

_ Like, really, really cold. A lot colder than it got down in New Orleans. And as he stood shivering in the snow, he decided that once he was done with this assignment, he would steal himself a coat. Not just any coat. Something long and stylish. Something that he could store cards and stolen items in. _

_ Yes, that's just what he would do._

_ But first this assignment. Which had taken him all the way to freezing cold Canada. All for some stupid diary. Wait. Not a diary._

_ A journal. _

_ Whatever. All he knew is that the journal had better be pretty damn important if he was going to freeze his ass off in Canada. Even though, if he thought about it, he would be getting a lot of money for his efforts. _

_ Like, so much money._

_ Keeping this in mind, the young thief snuck into the lab located in an obscure part of Alberta. It wasn't all that hard, breaking in. For some super, secret lab, Remy found their security lamentable. Not like it mattered. _

_ He had to go retrieve a diary. A journal. Whatever. _

_ It belonged to some weirdo named Essex. He struggled to remember the man's first name. Nathan? Daniel? Something like that. Whatever. Either way, Daniel/Nathan Essex wanted his diary back and he was an absolute freak. _

_ Not to say that in the past, Remy and his clan of thieves hadn't come across some oddballs. Because he had. He had seen all sorts of freaks come in and out of the doors of the LeBeau estate, each in need of something or another. It became so commonplace, it really didn't bother him all that much. _

_ But then Daniel/Nathan Essex sauntered in the door and gave Remy LeBeau chills. There was no reason why really. He wasn't dressed all that oddly. An expensive looking suit and glasses. His hair was midnight black and his skin almost…unnaturally pale. Not even pale. White. White as paper. As snow. _

_ It was his smile though. It was his smile that made Remy uncomfortable. Not because he smiled so much. But because beneath the friendly smile and easy going voice, something was brewing beneath the surface. Not even a threat. There was no undertone that he was threatening them. It was more calculating. Downright sinister, even. _

_ Remy didn't trust him. He didn't trust a lot of his clients (with good reason) but this man was different. This man rubbed him the wrong way completely. _

_ He shook off his thoughts, realizing he needed to concentrate on the task at hand. It seemed as if all security personal were occupied with something else. Which was, in all honesty, awesome. Because that meant that he could get in and get out. Quickly. _

_ Also awesome. _

_ He still went through all the necessary measures to cover his ass, because if his _Tante _found out that he wasn't doing everything in his power to protect himself, she would skin him alive. So he disable all security alarms. Created distractions. Knocked a few clueless guards unconscious. Followed the map Essex gave him._

_ He actually put a big fat "X" where the diary-journal would be located. An actual "X." Remy went through great pains to not laugh out loud when he first set eyes on his map. But he held it together, for he did not want to face the wrath of his father. _

_ "Professionalism, boy!" he would yell as he smacked his adoptive son on the back of the head. Since Remy had no desire whatsoever to be smacked in the back of the head, he bit the inside of his cheek and kept his giggle fit to himself. _

_ Not that Remy LeBeau giggled. That was girly. And he was a man. He laughed. Bellowed heartily. In a totally sexy manner, just for the record. _

_ Again, the thief made himself concentrate. He had an assignment with a lot of money riding on it. He just wanted to find the stupid diary-journal and end all dealings with Essex. So Remy crept down the long, empty, and ominous halls of the Weapon X facilities, his eyes peeled for anything that would need his immediate attention._

_ What did that expression mean anyway? Eyes peeled. He imagined that having one's eyes peeled wouldn't make them anymore attentive. In fact, they would probably be distracted with the pain of having their eyes peeled. _

_ Did peeling things make them more attentive? He didn't think so. He had peeled plenty of oranges in his life and they didn't seem to be any more aware that they were about to be eaten than they did with the skin still on them._

_ It was a stupid expression. Keeping your eyes peeled._

_ Wait. Wasn't he supposed to be concentrating on something…? Oh, yeah. Breaking and entering into a top secret lab located in Alberta, Canada. To find some pale weirdo's journal. _

_ Sometimes, Remy thought that he had the attention span of a peanut. _

_ Concentrate, concentrate, concentrate._

_ That was his thought as he made his way down another winding hallway. This thought quickly vanished when he came across a door that was slightly ajar. He paused thoughtfully. He was curious. What the hell was going on in these labs anyway? He wanted to know. _

_ So why not take a peek?_

_ He nudged the door open with the toe of his combat boots. Then he bit down on his lips to stifle the startled gasp that very nearly escaped his lips. Remy wasn't sure just what he expected to find in the room, but it wasn't the image before his wide, red eyes. _

_ They were people. Or, at least they were supposed to be. Or they once were. Now, they were in pods filled with a pink liquid, their bodies contorted and writing uncomfortably in their tiny prisons._

_There had to have been at least ten of them in the one room. All of them disfigured. All of them scarred. All of them clearly in pain. All of their screams muffled by their oxygen masks. Most seemed unconscious. But some screamed silently, bubbles surrounding their faces. Their mangled bodies convulsed violently. They twisted in their prisons. _

_ It was wrong. _

_ Remy LeBeau never claimed to do the work of angels. But this? This was at the hands of Satan himself . _

_ They were _people.

_He wasn't sure what he wanted to do. Part of him wanted to throw up. Another part wanted to reach out and touch their pod. He wanted to save them. He wanted to run. In the end, the best he could do was whisper:_

_ "Mon Dieu…. Bella ain't ever gonna believe me when I tell her 'bout this."_

_ Nervously, he stumbled backward so he could leave that room and get the damn diary and go home. But he lost his head. Stopped thinking for a minute. Unfortunately, in his line of work, a brief lapse of judgment was enough to ruin a heist. Because Remy LeBeau stumbled backward and ran into some equipment. He tried to catch it but it clattered to the ground loudly. _

_ He groaned. _

_ He knew he was too young for his mission. He knew when he accepted the assignment he would be in over his head. But he wanted to be big and bad and cocky and prove to his father he was capable. And Essex had requested Remy specifically. Which was weird but whatever. How was he supposed to say no to that?_

_ And again: So much money._

_ It didn't take long for security to arrive. When they did, Remy's heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He knew he was so screwed. He knew it. And he feared that he would end up like the poor souls in those pods behind him. _

_ But never let it be said he didn't put up a good fight. Or a good show. _

_ So he pulled out his cards and challenged the men. Smiled at them haughtily. Prepared to fight for his life. _

_ But it appeared as if an angel descended to help him out of his dance with the devil. _

_ An alarm sounded. Almost instantly, screams echoed down the halls. Screams of pure terror. Screams of pain. The screams of dying men. The guards who once surrounded Remy immediately left him behind, brandishing their guns. _

_ "WEAPON X ESCAPED! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! IT'S LOOSE!"_

_ Remy did not need another opening. Instead, he left the heinous room and didn't look back at the mangled bodies. He ran down the hall to the room where the diary was being stored. He found in a desk drawer, just like he was told he it would be. He took the diary and ran as fast as his feet could carry him. He made no effort to make his hasty exit a quiet one._

_ The screams would cover his escape just fine. _

_ As he left, Remy took one look behind him. He saw bodies fall. He saw people retreat hastily. And he saw the hulking shadow of a hairy, snarling figure attacking whoever was unfortunate enough to cross its path. He would later swear that it was his mind playing tricks on him, but Remy LeBeau thought he saw his unlikely angel with claws._

_ Some angel. _

_ Being back in the snow, where he once was uncomfortable, Remy felt relief. He had gone far away from the facility so he wouldn't have to listen to the sound of dying men. But he could still hear their wails. They rang mercilessly in his ears. _

_ Clearly, he wouldn't be sleeping peacefully for quite some time. _

_ Slumping heavily against a tree, Remy opened the diary that brought him to this frozen hell hole. He was not shocked to see that the images sketched in the diary were eerily similar to the images he saw inside that lab. The notes written were above his level of comprehension, but he was able to understand that it discussed doing…things to mutants. Horrible things. Experiments. _

_ Remy LeBeau never claimed to do the work of angels, but that place back there was hell. And if this diary that belonged to Essex had anything to do with the horrors he stumbled upon, then maybe it deserved to burn too._

_ He used his powers to burn the book. Dropping it in the snow, Remy LeBeau began his journey home and did not look back._

**XXXXX**

**Thank god for the Marvel Database online. **

**Some of you might recongize this scene. Yes, I leaned heavily on an actual X-Men comic where Remy LeBeau did this very same thing. I like to incorporate actual bits and pieces of the comics into my fic. Of course, I add my own twist. Which will be appearing in later chapters. So stay tuned.**

**-M.A.**


	4. The Relationship

**Man, this chapter was a pain to write. It was hard to get the moment and the feelings just right. I think because I'm ready get to the action-y fun stuff. Not that I don't love the Romy romance. Not that this chapter you are about to read doesn't have significance. Nope. I just know what's in store and I'm ready for it. But here it is, chapter four. **

**Oh. And for various reasons, the rating has changed to T. This will likely change again several chapters down the line. Just so you know. **

**Thank you all for the lovely reviews. **

**On a side note: BlueFox, WHERE ARE YOU? Come back. You are missed.**

**XXXXX **

Remy LeBeau had never really been in a relationship before.

Sure, there was that thing with Bella, but that was more of an imprisonment than it was an actual relationship. There were women in his past who he shared a bed with for prolonged period of time. A few other women who he went out on more than one date with. But, now that he thought about it, until Rogue he had never been in a real relationship.

It was weird.

Not the relationship. Well…okay, yes. The relationship _was_ weird but it worked and he liked it. He and Rogue meshed together so well, he didn't put any effort into enjoying himself. Maybe how others observed their relationship from the outside might have some criticism but he didn't care all that much. He and Rogue were weird.

So what?

But that wasn't what he meant in the first place. What he meant was it was weird how easily he had settled in to the whole being committed thing. Even if he would never admit it out loud, Remy LeBeau knew that beneath the black and red eyes, he was a good guy. But Rogue?

She had turned him into a romantic freak.

Really. He wasn't doing all those romantic, chivalrous gestures just because he liked putting on a show. Partly because it annoyed Rogue to an endless degree. But mostly because he liked and wanted to do those things for her.

It kind of scared him, how much he had come to care for the girl with streaks in her hair. Sure, he had been infatuated before. His heart had danced when she finally reciprocated his love (even it was at the worst possible time). When she finally opened her heart to him, he was ready to give her the world. He never thought that he would have fallen so hard so fast. It was scary.

But he was okay with it. More than okay with it actually.

Sometimes, thinking about what a lovesick sap he had become, made him sick to his stomach. It was disgusting.

But still.

Remy turned so he was lying on his side. Rogue was next to him, either sleeping or almost sleeping. He couldn't quite tell. He pressed his hand to her bare shoulder anyway. He always loved looking at the contrast of their two drastically different skin tones. Before he knew what he was doing, he was caressing her slightly. He heard her sigh and he smiled.

They weren't the kind of couple to sleep with their limbs twined around the other. But they were always close. Always touching, even if it was just their ankles hooked together. But on this particular morning, Remy LeBeau wanted to be closer to the girl who had so stealthily stolen his heart. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, happy.

He wasn't saying he wanted to marry Rogue. He wasn't saying he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He wasn't saying that his feelings in the future wouldn't change. But for right now, in this exact moment in time, he couldn't imagine a life without having her in it to call him mean names and slap him on the back of the head.

He really was _that _far gone at this point.

But Remy LeBeau couldn't find himself minding. Not at all. In fact, he was wondering why he hadn't tried the whole "being in a relationship" thing sooner.

It wasn't _that _bad.

XXXXX

Some women (okay, _most_ women) would think waking up with Remy LeBeau wrapped around them would be a godsend. And okay, yes, it was pretty awesome. Rogue knew she was lucky. She knew how nice it was to have a warm body pressed to hers. She knew it was as comforting as it was sexy. And yes, okay, sometimes it was _really_ nice to be woken up by Remy LeBeau kissing every available surface on her face.

But right now? She was trying to sleep.

Not to say that his lips against her bare shoulder wasn't a fabulous feelings. As was his arms circling around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. And the way his whispered endearments to her huskily in French? Yeah, that was fabulous too.

But she was trying to sleep. There was also the fact that, unlike in those stupid romantic movies she pretended not to watch, there is such thing as morning breath. And even the infamous Remy LeBeau got it.

Being sexy does not make him immune to stinky breath.

Rogue swatted at him blindly.

"Quit it."

He ran his hand along the curve of her hip. "Roguey, I'm tryin' to be romantic," he complained in a voice that could easily be likened to a distressed five year old.

"And I'm tryin' to sleep."

She could hear him smile. "Did Remy wear you out last night?"

"Shut up."

"Is that a yes?"

"No."

"Admit it."

"Your breath stinks."

He was quiet after that. For a moment, Rogue thought that perhaps he would shut up and let her get to sleep before she had to dash off to a Danger Room session run by Logan in a few hours. Logan, who seemed to have formed an unspoken agreement with the two southerners: have Remy out the room before the others woke up and he won't eviscerate the Cajun.

Sighing softly, Rogue got comfortable in her blankets once more and began to zonk out once more. She felt as if her eyes had just drifted close when:

"You still awake?"

To which she responded by calling him a very explicit name. Instead of being perturbed at her for not only questioning his parentage but also making a very impolite implication about his relationship with his mother, Remy LeBeau pressed his mouth to her shoulder once more and smiled. The arms around her waist tightened.

"I love you, Rogue," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

It made her breath catch in her throat whenever he said that. Because Remy LeBeau was not a man who said that frivolously. Partly because Remy LeBeau was not a man who said that to very many people. Rogue was the only woman, he told her, who he said it to who he was not related to. If he said it to anyone, he truly meant it.

They were not the kind of couple who said it to each other on a daily basis. Not even on a weekly basis. The moment had to be just right for either one of the two to utter those three not so little words. Lifting her tired green eyes, Rogue saw why Remy might have felt so inclined to proclaim his love.

Her room wasn't all that special. A little messy. Their hastily removed clothes thrown on the floor did not help either. But light was streaming in from her balcony from the sun that had not quite begun to rise. Birds weren't chirping because winter was setting in. Most had left for somewhere warmer by now. But the silence was soothing in and of itself. For just that moment, the world seemed still.

The time Remy and Rogue had alone together was very limited. Prolonged alone time was a treasure they rarely got to enjoy. But a moment like this one came around even less. She knew that Remy could appreciate the stillness, no matter how fleeting. Beneath the dancing eyes and naughty smiles, Remy LeBeau was a romantic.

No matter how hard he denied it.

It was not something Rogue had come to accept with ease though. When their relationship first began to bloom toward romance, she had great difficulty reconciling the two parts of Remy LeBeau. The Cajun Casanova and the lover. Even now, she accepted it with more ease but it still baffled her at times.

This whole "being in a relationship" thing was baffling to Rogue, if she was going to be honest. She never hoped that she would be able to touch another human, let alone share a romantic relationship with them. So it never occurred to her what kind of commitment it would be. At times, it was a little overwhelming.

Okay. A lot overwhelming.

Don't get her wrong. She loved every moment she spent with Remy LeBeau...maybe not every moment. He could be a little annoying at times but whatever. Either way, she loved him and being with him. But as they grew closer and their time together as a couple lengthened, Rogue realized how much of herself she was giving to him. How much of himself he was giving her.

It was pressure.

Sometimes she wondered what would happen if Remy realized that he could have any girl he wanted and that she was just a pale, weird, angry girl and would move on to a woman more deserving. What would happen if he grew tired of her. If time caused them to grow apart. What she would do if he wasn't hers anymore.

More often, she feared what would happen if she hurt him. She didn't want to hurt him. She happened to really like Remy. If he was sad, she was sad. What if she dropped the ball? What if she got mad and said something hurtful in the heat of the moment? What if she got so angry, she left him to die in Antarctica?

Okay. Maybe the last one was a _bit_ of a stretch but she was worried none the less.

This relationship business was weird. Because she wanted to be secure enough to give herself to him fully. Because she wanted to keep Remy LeBeau all to herself for as long as possible. She wanted to steal his heart. She _had_ stolen his heart. She didn't want to give it back. She was selfish.

She was just afraid to give him all of hers. And she was afraid of all the responsibility she had since she was holding his happiness in her sometimes gloved hands.

Despite her fears and worries, Rogue turned so she was facing Remy. When their eyes met, he broke out in a wide smile.

Geez, sometimes he could act like such a lovesick puppy.

But Rogue smiled back, because she liked when he smiled. It made her body act funny. Her body always acted funny around Remy LeBeau. She couldn't help but smile at his absurdly handsome face.

She allowed for him to pull her into his chest. Not just because it gave her immediate and easy access to his washboard abs (mmm…washboard abs). She wanted to be close to Remy, even if she was afraid. She wanted to be comforted by his presence, even if in some ways it frightened her. Even if his breath did stink.

He would have to leave soon. That is unless he wanted to have Logan cut his head off, something her pseudo father seemed eager to do. They also had a Danger Room session to prepare for. But until he had to depart, she stroked her fingers absently along the scar located on his pectoral muscle.

She always wondered about it but never got around to asking. She had no intention of ending their moment by asking about it now. Instead, she continued to trace its shape with her long fingers. Instead of asking about the scar, she did the only thing that seemed logical in that instant.

"I love you too, Rems."

**XXXXX**

**Okay. Next chapter the story starts moving, I promise. **


	5. The Scar

**Thank you everyone for your wonderful reviews. I would have had this chapter up sooner but my laptop, Wolverine, is acting weird. It won't let me connect to the internet. So I had to use my mom's laptop to update the fic. Unfortunately, my laptop is newer so when I tried to bring the file from my laptop over to hers, it wasn't compatible. So I retyped it.**

**The things I do for you….**

**Anyway, thanks everyone who got my little Antarctica joke. And thank you Star-of-Chaos for ALL of the reviews. Wow. I mean, wow. That was amazing. One final note.**

**WHERE ARE YOU BLUEFOX?**

XXXXX

_As grateful as Remy was for his father adopting him as his own, he wasn't all that fond of the man. Yes, he loved him. But he didn't like him all that much._

_But after his trip from Canada, Remy LeBeau found himself all but clinging to his father while in the presence of his creepy client, Nathan/Daniel Essex. He had explained to both men that he went through the labs but was unsuccessful in locating the all important diary. _

_Journal. Whatever._

_Neither men were aware of the fact that Remy LeBeau was lying his Cajun ass off. Even his father, who had trained hi in the art of lying one's ass off, could never quite peg when his son was being dishonest. So no one suspected a thing when Remy told them solemnly, with puppy dog eyes (which he recently discovered made those of the opposite sex swoon) that he searched high and low but could not find the diary. He left out the part where something big, hairy, and angry escaped and slaughtered everyone in sight., _

_That would be Remy's little secret. _

_But now he head to face Essex. He wasn't sure what the man would do but he was afraid. Which is why the seventeen year old was huddled closer to his father than usual._

"_It's fine."_

_Remy's eyes bulged as he stared up at Essex, who smiled down at him patiently. _

"_It's fine?" he repeated, stunned._

_Essex nodded, smiling the smile that sent shivers down Remy's spine. "Yes. It is quite alright, Mr. LeBeau. I have no doubt that you worked to the best of your ability to recover my belongings._

"_Uh…oui." Remy nodded enthusiastically. "I tired to find your diary-"_

"_Journal."_

"_-but it wasn' anywhere."_

_Essex waved his hand, dismissing the subject. "It's nothing. They were old writings of mine. They held a sentimental value and nothing more."_

_Remy had a not so nice comment in response to the lie he and his father were being fed, but he kept it to himself. No one paid as much money as he had just to get back some old diary of "sentimental value." Besides. Remy had taken a peek into that diary. What he saw was far from "sentimental." But if he said any of those things, especially that bit about what he read in the diary, then he would reveal that he actually found it. Then he would be in a whole heap of trouble._

_So Remy just pursed his lips and kept quiet._

_Essex lifted his eyes to the eldest LeBeau. "I will of course pay you as agreed." His eyes flicked down to Remy. "And then something extra for the fine work your boy did. You show talent and strong potential, Remy LeBeau. I believe you could be very powerful in the future. You will do your father proud."_

"_Um…merci, Monsieur Essex." _

_His gaze remained fixed on Remy for longer than necessary. It took Remy a moment to realize that Essex was not staring at his face, but at his chest. He glanced down and noticed blood had seeped through the material of his shirt. He reached up to rub the wound dazedly, having completely forgotten it. Essex merely lifted a lofty brown in a silent question. _

"_I got a lil' scratched up durin' the ride home." He shrugged, nonchalant. "It's nothing'." _

"_When did you acquire the wound?"_

"_Last night."_

"_And it's still bleeding?"_

"_Only a lil'."_

"_You need to be treated by a doctor." The small smile that had been tugging at his lips grew into a frightening grin. "A doctor, which I just so happen to be."_

_Remy did not want to think about what sort of "patients" Essex treated. He remembered the people in the pods, the ones who were clearly in pain. Instead, he took a nervous step backward, laughing awkwardly."_

"_Oh. Non. That ain't necessary. Really." He pressed his hand over his chest, where he was still bleeding. It did kind of hurt…. "I'm fine."_

"_Come now, Remy. You are not afraid of the doctor, are you?"_

_He leveled his gaze at the teenager meaningfully._

"_I'm sure you have faced worse."_

_He said this as if he knew something. _

_Remy restrained from shifting uncomfortably, taking to staring Essex in the eye with bravado he did not actually feel instead. "I ain't afraid of nothin'. It's jus' the cut ain't that deep. Ain't worth your trouble."_

"_It's no trouble at all. It's my job. My passion. I would __**love **__to help you."_

"_Uh…."_

_Before Remy could think of an excuse to say no, his father slapped him on the back of his head. Remy swore in French, something he wasn't supposed to do in front of clients. But Essex only looked at the two with mild amusement. Pouting, Remy looked up at his father. However, the pout did not have the same effect on Jean-Luc as it did on young ladies. _

"_What was that for, Papa? It hurt?"_

"_It's s'posed to hurt. Don' be disrespectful. Monsieur Essex is offerin' to help you. Accept it."_

"_But, Papa-"_

_Again, Remy was cut off with the slap to the back of his head. "Professionalism, boy!"_

_His pout morphed into a full on frown. Reluctantly, he left his father's side and approached Essex, who eyed him like Remy eyed Tante's gumbo. He eyed Remy the way Bella did that day she caught him skinny dipping. That's how Essex looked at him._

_Not with lust, just to be clear._

_Like he was hungry. Like he had just laid eyes on a serious prize and couldn't believe his good fortune. Inwardly, Remy groaned._

_How come the only people who looked at him like that was a pretty, albeit neurotic blonde and a pale doctor who experimented on mutants in his free time? _

_Remy never could catch a break, could he?_

_This was only a distant thought in his head because Remy was focused on wondering what was in store for him. He led Essex to a room the family used as a makeshift med bay. He tried to comfort himself with the thought of "What's the worst that could happen?"_

_Then Remy remembered that was his attitude when he agreed to take that stupid assignment to stupid, cold Canada. _

_XXXXX_

"_So…uh. What kind of doctor are you, 'scatly?" Remy asked as he pulled his shirt over his head. He looked down at the cut on his chest. It ran across his pectoral muscle and was still bleed achingly slowly. A damn cat ran in front of him while he was speeding on his bike. He crashed and his chest was scratched up by…something. He wasn't sure what exactly. Glass, he suspected. Either way, it hurt like sin._

_The stupid cat was okay though. _

_Looking down at his wound, Remy realized that maybe it did need some medical attention. It was a little deeper than he originally assumed. And it was kind of ugly looking. It ached, but not too badly. He probably needed to see a doctor. _

_But why couldn't it have been some curvy red head who would giggle when he pouted? Hell, at this point, he would have taken Tante's not so tender treatment over this "doctor." _

_But no. He was stuck with the frightening Nathan/Daniel Essex. _

_What the hell was the man's first name? For the life of him, Remy couldn't remember. His brain was too full of blueprints of museums and girls' phone numbers. How could he be expected to remember so weirdo's name too?_

"_I'm a geneticist," said weirdo answered. "I study the make up of humans, though the mutant genome fascinates me in particular."_

_He turned to Remy, brandishing bandages, ointment that would probably sting, and other doctor related tings that the young man would need. Essex set his array of supplies down and leaned down to look at Remy's cut more closely. He hummed thoughtfully._

"_It appears as if you narrowly evaded needing stitches, Remy LeBeau. But it will need to be cleaned and tended to. You will probably brandish a scar from this little debacle."_

_The Cajun shrugged, nonplused. "Ain't the first time and it won' be the last."_

"_Yes." He smiled once more. "Well, why don't we get stared."_

"_Okay."_

_Only when he began the painful process of cleaning the would did Essex decide to strike up a conversation._

"_You are a mutant, are you not?"_

_It was more of a statement, rather than a question. Remy looked up, blinking in surprise. "Oui. How did you know?"_

"_Your eyes are quite revealing," was the response, another smirk tugging at his lips. _

"_Oh."_

"_So what sort of powers-this might sing-do you possess?"_

_It did sting. A lot. So much, that Remy almost forgot what the question was for several seconds. If Essex noticed his pain, he made no indication. He just continued on cleaning him up. _

"_I…I make t'ings go boom," he finally answered when he was able to form a coherent sentence. _

"_Excuse me?"_

"_I make things explode."_

_For a moment, Essex stopped tending to Remy. His eyes glittered excitedly. "How?"_

"_I dunno. I jus' touch it and think 'bout makin' it explode. Then it does. But only if I let it go. It won' explode if I'm still touchin' it."_

"_Can you do this to anything?"_

"_I…don' know. I haven' tried it on…I ain' ever tried to charge a person. But everythin' else seems to work. Sometimes the bigger stuff takes longer to charge."_

"_Fascinating."_

_Silence stretched between the two men. Essex continued to patch Remy up, taking extra care to stop the bleeding. Even after it had stopped, he cleaned the wound and the area around it almost excessively, soaking up his cloth with blood. But Essex set it aside and began bandaging Remy up._

"_I wonder what makes your powers work," he mused quietly, more to himself than Remy. "How are you able to do such a feat. If it would work on other mutants."_

_He gulped, uncomfortable with all the questions. "I ain't sure."_

"_Do you have any siblings?"_

"_I dunno."_

_Essex looked up, surprised and clearly confused. _

"_I'm adopted," Remy clarified. "Don' know a thing 'bout my real mama, papa, or any brothers or sisters I might have. Honestly ain't all that interested."_

"_Hmm." Essex's lips thinned. "How unfortunate."_

"_Uh…yeah."_

"_It would be very interesting to find out if your parents have similar abilities. Any family, actually, would be of great use to me. What a shame."_

"_Oui…a shame." _

_There was silence again, something Remy was endlessly thankful for. All of the questions were making him uneasy. He was afraid that he would end up in his own pod, screaming for a way to get out. He was afraid Essex was a little too interested in . He was afraid he would be another page in a brand new diary._

_Not a lot of thing frightened Remy LeBeau, but Nathan/Daniel Essex definitely did. So when he was bandaged up and ready to go, he could have broken out into spontaneous dance he was so thrilled. _

"_Thank you, Monsieur Essex," he said, nodding his head politely as he jumped off the bed he was seated on. _

"_How old are you, Remy?" Essex asked, his eyes feely roving the young man. He took in everything from his toes to his naked torso. Remy squirmed._

"_Seventeen."_

"_My." His eyes seemed fixated on his chest. "You are in spectacular shape for a young man of your age."_

"_Err…Merci."_

"_A perfect specimen."_

_He reached out to press his hand to Remy's shoulder. The Cajun swiftly side stepped him. "Look, Monsieur, I'm flattered and all. But Remy don' roll that way. I gotta girlfriend and everythin'. You're barkin' up the wrong tree."_

_Essex let his hand drop, blinking his eyes in confusion. For an instant, Remy thought that maybe he had said the wrong thing-even though he was the one being stared at like a piece of sexy meat-but then Essex threw his head back and howled with laughter. It wasn't a very nice laugh. It was a bad guy laugh._

_It was so chilling, so sinister, it took every ounce of self control Remy had to not shiver with fear. _

_Geez, did this guy practice his cackle in the mirror, Dr. Horrible** style or something?_

_Eventually, after laughing for a solid minute, Essex seemed to have composed himself. He looked down at Remy with another one of his chilling smiles, shaking his head amusedly. _

"_Remy LeBeau, it has been a pleasure working with you." He stuck his hand out, which Remy reluctantly shook. "In fact, I hope that we will work together in the future."_

_For the first time that Remy could recall, his smile turned almost threatening. _

"_In fact," he went on, still grinning. "I'm __**certain **__you and I will be working together again in the future."_

_What the hell did that mean?_

_After a few more cryptic statements, Essex bid Remy adieu and walked out the room, not looking back once. The teen found himself infinitely pleased that his guest had finally departed. He pulled on a clean shirt and started to leave the room when he noticed something. Something Essex left behind, draped over the back of one of the chairs._

_It was a coat. Long. Brown. Stylish. A duster. A little large on Remy, but he was sure that he would fill it out soon enough. The pockets were deep, which was good. If he sewed in a few others, he would have enough room to store his cards and an endless supply of stolen goods. _

_It was perfect, actually._

_Rubbing the soon-to-be scar on his chest, Remy took the duster and walked out the room, ready to put the odd, uncomfortable incident with Nathan/Daniel Essex behind him forever._

_At least his coat problem had been solved._

_XXXXX_

****Dr. Horrible, as in Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog, starring the fabulous Neil Patrick Harris. The funniest most adorable musicals I have ever seen. It is hilarious an if you haven't seen it, then I suggest that you do. **


	6. The Girl

**Well, hello there.**

**I'm back. With a new chapter. And I know all these chapter-Rogue and Remy love time, the creepy Mr. Essex, and now this-don't seem to really connect. But give it time. Stick with me. I promise. I'm not making this up as I go along. **

**ALLREMS: you're onto me. Clever.**

**Zany: Jean-Luc, to me, is a father that truly means well. He's just a little clueless at times. Which is why he let's his son walk off with a major creep like Essex. And I wish I had more time to play with 17 year old Remy. I feel like that would be a very interesting time in his life to write about. Oh well. Maybe later. **

**Ace-of-Cyberspace: Yes. Yes, indeed. It is a fact. All creepers have mustaches. **

**annacat721: you're onto me, too...**

**BlueFox: seriously. Where are you?**

**And onward, to chapter six. **

**XXXXX**

Bobby Drake swaggered toward the nearest bus stop, smiling goofily. And why shouldn't he? Not only had he successfully snuck out of the mansion-without waking Logan-but he managed to make his way across the city to attend a party thrown by one of his classmates.

He was feeling pretty good about himself. Especially because he even managed to snag a phone number from one of the young ladies attending the party.

The sneaking out part wasn't too hard anyway, what with Remy rarely in the room. He was too busy sneaking out of the room himself so that he could go do all sorts of things Bobby didn't want to think about with Rogue. So it wasn't like he had a roommate he had to avoid. It was just a matter of not waking anyone.

Namely, Logan.

But he did it. He got out the mansion and made it to the party fashionably late. He wasn't really sure if men were supposed to be fashionably late or if that was just a girl thing but in the end, everything worked out. He danced, he flirted, he said no to drugs, said yes and then no to alcohol, he got a phone number, and now he was going home.

He ambled along the dark streets, whistling to himself. It was just past midnight. He would be getting home close to one. That would give him less than four hours of sleep before he had to wake up for a Danger Room session.

It was worth it, though. Totally worth it.

As Bobby neared the bus stop, he noticed another figure seated on the bench. He paused for a moment, slightly hesitant, but then proceeded onward. He would be fine. Everything would be okay, he was sure.

Yeah. Totally.

Bobby's mild fears diminished as he neared the figure. He realized that it was actually a woman. No, a girl. She couldn't have been much older than he was. When she heard him approach, her head whipped around. After seeming to size him up for a moment, she looked off in the opposite direction. Shrugging, Bobby proceeded forward.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked, smiling happily.

She remained silent, making his smile falter just slightly.

"Er, hello?"

She cast him a scornful look over her shoulder before scooting down to the opposite end of the bench to make room for Bobby. Confused, he sat down on the opposite end. He tried not to stare, honestly he did. But he couldn't help but look at her.

Maybe it was here outfit. It didn't fit her quite right. Her tennis shoes looked too big to fit her feet comfortably. Her jeans were torn, faded, and loose. But not in the fashionable way. In the "She didn't have a lot of options" kind of way. She wore a cap on her head, the ones grampas and golfers sometimes wore. All of her hair, if any, was tucked and hidden beneath the hat. And her shirt…

"Grace Potter."

She turned around to face him, seeming surprised by his sudden exclamation. "What?" she whispered, looking at him closely.

"Your shirt." He pointed at the oversized t-shirt. "Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. That's the band you're wearing. I love them. Did you see them in concert?"

"Uh, no."

"Oh." He blinked. "But you're a fan aren't you?"

"I've never heard of them in my life."

"Then why are you wearing the shirt?"

She turned around to look into the distance, not bothering to respond to his question. Bobby frowned, thrown by her oddly standoffish behavior. Sure, it was New York, but give a guy a break. He was just trying to be friendly. And who the hell wears the t-shirt of a band they haven't even heard of? It made no sense.

And what was up with the hat? It was an old person hat.

Bobby decided to keep quiet and not speak to the girl anymore. However, he couldn't help but to look over at he while they waited for the bus. He could dimly make out her profile in the darkness. Her chin was soft but strong. Kind of stubborn. She had an elegant face, from what he could see. But her brow was puckered with a deep frown.

All the pretty girls thought they were too pretty to give a guy a break.

Bobby tried not to look like a total creep while he waited for the bus/staring at the pretty but standoffish girl. Eventually, their bus arrived. They stood in unison, which caused them to turn to each other at the same time.

Oh, yeah. She was pretty. Even if she was wearing that stupid old person hat.

Unable to help himself, Bobby smiled at her. She stared at him, seeming confused. So he just kept smiling. And she dropped her head and looked at her feet. Bobby's smile faded in time for the bus doors to open. He tried to be a gentleman and let the girl go first. But she took so much time that he finally decided to go ahead of her.

He paid his bus fare and started to take an empty seat near the back of the bus. But then he heard the bus driver speak up and he stopped mid step.

"Sorry, but I can't let you on the bus."

"But…" a soft voice pleaded. "It's only twenty five cents. I'm only twenty-five cents short."

"Sorry, babe. You'll have to walk."

The soft voice rose. "It's midnight. I'm a girl on the streets. You cannot expect me to walk the streets at night by myself."

"Not my problem."

"It's twenty five cents!"

"You'll have to walk."

"I'll pay for it," Bobby was saying before he knew the words were coming out of his mouth. Both the bus driver and the girl turned to look at him, the girl's mouth hanging open. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to be nonchalant. "It's no big deal."

The girl followed him with bright green eyes as he went back to the front of the bus and paid for her bus fare. Smiling, he reached out for her wrist. She gasped softly, pulling her arm away. The smile slipped away once more.

"Come on. I just want to sit with you. I don't bite."

"But…."

Bobby channeled his inner Remy LeBeau and gave his version of the puppy dog eyes. "Please?"

Her eyes wavered. Her jaw tightened. She stared at him for much longer than necessary before she finally huffed tiredly. She rolled her bright green eyes.

"Fine." She started for the back of the bus, then stopped so that she could spin around and glare at Bobby accusingly. "But do _not _touch me."

He lifted his hands up defensively. "Whoa. Chill. I'll keep my hands to myself."

"Good."

They went to the back of the bus where Bobby snagged a seat clearly large enough for two. The girl looked at him and then the open space beside him. She then flopped gracelessly down into the seat directly across from Bobby. She then pulled her legs up so that her knees rested against the back of the seat in front of her and stared broodingly ahead.

Okay.

He had been rooming with Remy LeBeau for several months now. The man made women swoon with just a "_Bonjour_." He had even made Rogue less…scary. That was a feat in and of itself. There was the reason the girls of the mansion had labeled him the Cajun Casanova. Even if they weren't best friends with him, there wasn't a girl at home who wasn't fond of Remy. Even Emma seemed to get along with him well enough despite knowing the fact he had been spying on her when she first moved in.

But apparently a mutual love of sunglasses is enough to forgive anything in her books.

The women loved him. Rogue loved him. The men weren't as big fans, but what did that matter when he had a troop of women at his side, willing to defend them from their "insensitive" boyfriends at the drop of a hat.

Remy LeBeau was _good_.

Bobby hoped, that after all the months they spent together in the same room, that perhaps some of the Remy LeBeau charm had rubbed off on him.

Because he was going to need it with this girl.

XXXXX

After what she had been through, Lorna Dane could totally tell when she was being stared at. And the guy, the one from the bus stop who paid her bus fare, he was totally staring at her. It was obvious. He was trying to hide it, but he was clearly staring at her.

Great.

The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself. Be as inconspicuous as possible. That's why she was wearing this stupid outfit. Well, that and because when she escaped, she really didn't have a lot of clothing options. And be "a lot" she meant none at all. Because she was sure anything she wore that she picked up in the lab would have some sort of tracker or something that would be able to give him her location. A GPS or something. She didn't know. She never paid attention to spy movies where maybe she could have learned something.

She was grateful for all those cheesy _Lifetime _shows her aunt watched though. The ones where women are abducted and then some serious sounding voiceover dude describes how the victim could have escaped. Her aunt watched a lot of those stupid shows.

Lorna would be forever grateful that she was in the room when they were on.

Everything was just fine until this guy-the one who was still staring at her-decided to show up. Okay. Well…maybe that was a bit of an overstatement. Everything wasn't going just fine, per se.

Yes, she was running for her life. Yes, she had nowhere to stay. Yes, she hadn't had a bath in days (which was too gross for her to really want to think about). Yes, she stole the shoes on her feet and didn't want to think about who they belonged to before she got her hands on it. Yes, she hadn't had a real meal in days and thus, she was starving. Yes, her body ached in ways that she never dreamed were possible. Yes, her sleep was plagued by nightmares. Yes, she was wearing an ugly old man hat. Yes, she was wearing a short sleeve t-shirt just as winter was about to really set in. Yes, she really didn't know where she was exactly.

But anything was better than where she ran away from. Anything.

Even this boy, who kept staring at her.

Lorna really wished he would cut it out. He was freaking her out.

"What's your name?"

Lorna looked over at the guy, startled. "Excuse me?"

He was giving her…a look. She wasn't quite sure how to describe this look. Kind of a leer. But not exactly. And what exactly was he doing with his eyebrow? Was it a…nervous twitch?

Great. She was sitting across from a total nut job.

"Why do you want my name?" she demanded, defensive.

The creepy leer-eyebrow twitch thing went away. His face fell, and he looked just like a boy. Probably not much older than she was. Of slightly above average appearance and a big goofy smile she'd caught a glimpse of at the bus stop. He wasn't smiling now, though. He looked as thrown off by her question as she did by his general presence.

"I was just trying to be friendly."

Now he was giving her those sad, puppy eyes again. She hesitated before finally speaking up. "Lorna."

"Lorna….?" He trailed off, waiting for her to continue.

"Just Lorna."

"Oh. I see. Okay then, Lorna." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Bobby."

She stared at the offered hand critically before he took the hint and dropped it. Silence stretched, but only for an instant. He was talking again almost immediately.

"How old are you, Lorna?"

He was giving her that twitch eyebrow almost leer again. And, if she was not mistaken, he licked his lips and….did he just wink at her? What was he doing?

Is he flirting?

"I'm seventeen," she said honestly, hoping her age would be a deterrent. Maybe he was older than she was.

No such luck.

"Hey! Me too!" he enthused. His loud proclamation visibly startled Lorna, seeming to remind him that he was trying to be…smooth? Sexy? She wasn't sure exactly. But whatever he was doing, he cleared his throat and gave her a "heated look." When he spoke, his voice had more base to it than she originally recalled. "I mean…cool. _Cherie_."

"Excuse me?"

"Um, nothing."

Once again, there was silence. Bobby-he said that was his name, right?-didn't speak up again, which she was thankful for. So she entertained herself by staring at the holes in the knees of her stolen jeans, trying not to think about any one thing in particular. Her plan of not thinking was going fine until she became aware of just how cold she was.

She was wearing a short sleeved shirt after all.

Next to her, Bobby was trying to pretend to not be looking at her while garbed in a black leather jacket. It looked warm. Really, warm actually. Bobby didn't look the least bit cold. Why, he looked abso-firckin'-lutely toasty in his stupid leather jacket. He didn't have goosebumps, like she did. He was suppressing shivers, like she was.

Jackass.

Lorna bet that if she asked, he would give her that jacket. But she wouldn't ask. No, sir. She had to have some dignity. In the last…wow. She didn't know how long she had been gone. Days? Weeks? Months? It couldn't have been more than a couple of months.

Well, in all that time she had been gone, she had her dignity stripped away from her, bit by bit. She tried to be strong. She really did. She was tough girl, after all. But soon enough she found herself begging and crying and pleading and making deals her captor paid no mind to. Now she had escaped. And if she had lived through that traumatic experience, she could get by without some stupid leather coat worn my some stupid seventeen year old with an eyebrow twitch.

Lorna rubbed her hands against her arms, trying to warm herself with friction. It did very little to assuage her goosebumps but at least she had her dignity.

"Uh, Lorna. You look kinda cold. Do you…wanna borrow my jacket?"

"YES!"

This time Bobby jumped as a result of her excited reply. She felt color rising in her cheeks but couldn't find herself caring all that much. For the first time, she found herself smiling at Bobby. He smiled back. Not a creepy smile either. A little one, that tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was, she decided, a nice smile.

Bobby shrugged off his jacket. Lorna continued to rub her hands up and down her arms, waiting for the moment he handed it to her. It almost happened. It really did. He dangled it across the isle for her to take, his little smile growing just slightly.

But then.

Always but. Things never did just work out.

But then he frowned, dropping the jacket to the bus floor. Before Lorna could process what had gone wrong, he had taken hold of her wrist in a surprisingly hard grip. She squealed, then attempted to pull her arm back.

"Let go of me," she hissed, trying to keep the waver out of her voice.

"What happened to you?"

"What are you talking about? Let go of me, Bobby."

"I'm talking about this." He reached across and pushed up the sleeve of her shirt, revealing the upper part of her arm and some of her shoulder. It also revealed an ugly, purple-black bruise that he must have gotten a peek of when she was rubbing her arm. She must have pushed her sleeve up just enough for him to see it.

Crap.

"What happened to you?" he demanded, his voice hard.

"Nothing."

"That isn't nothing. That is the ugliest bruise I've ever seen. And trust me, I've seen some ugly bruises."

"It's none of your damn business." She attempted to wretch her wrist from his steely grip to no avail. "Let go of me or I'll-"

"Or you'll what?"

That stopped her in her tracks. There were, honestly, several things she could have done to make him let her go. But most of those would involve violence. And not just normal violence. The kind of violence that draws unwanted attention to herself. The kind of attention that might alert her captor to her location.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.

Bobby's brown eyes scrutinized her, head to toe. Sure, he had been staring at her nonstop since they met at the bus stop but it was like now he was actually seeing her for the first time. His eyebrows pulled together while his frown deepened.

"Who are you running from?"

"Bobby, don't. Seriously."

"I am being serious. Who are you? A criminal?

"What? No. Let go me."

"These aren't your clothes, are they?"

She opened her mouth to speak, yet could not find the necessary words.

"You stole them, didn't you?" he continued to probe. "That's why you haven't heard of Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. You stole that shirt. And those pants and those shoes and that ugly hat. You're running from someone, aren't you?"

"I swear to god, Bobby, if you don't let me go….."

"What's under your hat?"

"NO!"

He reached over to yank it off her head. Lorna stifled her scream but just barely. She painfully pulled her arm from his vise like grip and flung herself to the other end of her seat.

Away from him.

Her heart was beating so hard in her chest, she was positive she was going to have a heart attack right there on the bus. She was going to have a heart attack and die before she was able to get home to her aunt. Before she was even able to figure out where the hell she was in the first place.

Great. Just awesome. All because some nosy teenager with an eyebrow twitch made puppy eyes at her a few times.

She and Bobby stared at each other from across the isle. His expression, which moments ago had been probing, if not somewhat accusatory, had softened significantly. He was looking at her now like she was some injured animal or something. She saw the sympathy in his eyes. It was a nice change, considering it was the first time in only god knew how long that someone had looked at her with some kind of kindness. But she was in no room to be his charity case.

"Did someone hurt you, Lorna?"

"Stay out of this, Bobby," was her only response, shaking her head. But carefully, so that none of her hair would slip out from beneath the cap.

"I swear," he insisted, "I will not hurt you. I swear. I'm a good guy."

She gave him a skeptical look.

"I am, Lorna. Look, I'll take care of you."

"I don't need to be taken care of."

"Do you even know where you'll be sleeping tonight?"

He had her there. But rather than say that and give him the satisfaction, Lorna settled for clamping her mouth shut and glaring at him. Bobby remained unaffected.

"Lorna, I'm not gonna take care of you forever or anything. I'm just saying that clearly you're in a bad spot. You just need a little help. There's this place…I live there. It's huge." He laughed to himself a little. "Like, seriously. Huge. Enormous even. We have room for you. It won't be problem. You can at least stay for the night. Get some clothes-you look like you're Jean's size-and then go in the morning."

She had no clue who the hell Jean was but it all sounded a little too good to be true.

"How do I know that I'll be safe there?"

Bobby blinked at her for a moment before throwing his head back and howling with laughter. And if she wasn't freaked by him before, she totally was now. Seriously.

What was this kid's problem?

He laughed for a good minute or two before he was finally able to stifle his giggles down, wipe the tears from his eyes and look back at her again. And when he looked back, he gave her a big, toothy, and even somewhat charming smile.

"Lorna, I'm an X-Man. Everyone in that house is. We're mutants. The best out there and we'll do anything to make sure that you are safe. Nobody can get through us."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." She lifted up her hands, as if she were trying to pause the conversation. "Hold on. You're an X-Man? You're a mutant too?"

Bobby's brow furrowed. "Too?"

She wasn't exactly sure why she did it. Honestly, it could have been the most dangerous thing for her to do. She didn't know this boy. He could be a nut job who was pulling this all out his ass. He could be messing with her head for the hell of it. He could be lying. He could be working for his captor. She didn't even know his last name.

But she did it anyway.

Maybe it was because she was tired of running and despite her bravado, was ready to accept help. Even if it was from a weird, albeit friendly stranger. It was probably because she had nothing else to lose at that point.

So Lorna Dane pulled off the hat she had been wearing all day and let her hair tumble down the length of her back. It wouldn't have been such a big deal if her hair weren't green. Not lime green or a dyed green or anything. No.

It was a pure, bright, beautiful green.

It was what made her stand out. It was what identified her as mutant. It was a part of her mutation. It made her an easy target.

Most people thought it was weird. Most people gawked and mocked her for it. But not Bobby. His jaw dropped open his brown eyes widened. But, for some reason, not in a bad way. She wouldn't say it was in a good way, either. Not really. But he seemed to be…admiring it?

Well, whatever he thought, he summed it up in one word:

"Whoa."

**XXXXX**

**Did you know everytime you say "Whoa," Joey Lawerence recieves some money in royalties? **

**Okay. Maybe like, one of you will get that joke. Maybe. If I'm lucky. **


	7. The Pool Table

**Whoo! It's a long chapter. This took me forever to type up so I hope you enjoy it.**

**BlueFox: You're back. Yay.**

**ALLREMS: is it Blossom, you were thinking of?**

**Zany: you mentioned your fondness over my style, but it's always nice to hear.**

**Everyone who got the "whoa" joke: Thank you! Actually, thank you eveyrone who reviewed. **

**XXXXX**

Lorna was awoken by the sound of a loud slap, which was instantly followed by a profane word, and even a little swearing. Frightened, she turned over so that she could throw herself out of the bed. She stood on the other side, ready to defend herself from whoever was here to take her back to that place.

What she saw, instead of her captor killing the nice but weird Bobby boy was Bobby in a headlock, squirming and slapping the hands of his attacker. His attacker, a man who was only wearing some sweatpants and only just waking up himself. Lorna glanced over her shoulder and saw that the sun was just beginning to rise.

After all the things she had been through, Lorna Dane had no clue what to make of the sight presented before her.

"Um," was all she said.

Both men looked up. The one who had Bobby in a headlock smiled at her, looking as if green haired women catching him slapping and attacking others was completely commonplace. She may have been more concerned about the state of Bobby's wellbeing but…well. The attacker had a _really _nice smile. Lorna found herself smiling back a little.

"Good morning, _Cherie_," he greeted, still not releasing Bobby who flailed about in his arms. "I'm so sorry to wake you but I gotta have a word wit' my roommate. Would you mind jus' takin' a lil' seat 'til the two of us are done wit' our conversation?"

His eyes, which were oddly black and red, seemed to be glittering, shinning right at her. A fog clouded her coherent thoughts. She just wanted to look at his eyes some more and do what he was asking. Because if she did what he was asking, maybe he would smile some more.

It was such a nice smile.

"Remy!" Bobby hissed, slapping the man's arms some more. "Don't do that stupid empathic charm thing to her! Cut it out! Lorna, stop looking in his eyes!"

She looked over at Bobby, confused. When she did, the fog over her brain almost instantly dissipated and she could think clearly again. She looked at the stranger again, befuddled. He had…glamoured her? Like in those vampire books? Was he a vampire? He kind of had vampire eyes.

Maybe he was a vampire.

Maybe that's why she was so awed by his smile when he first bestowed it upon her. Maybe it was his vampire powers kicking in, making her fall for him or something. She looked back at the maybe-vampire, who smiled again.

Nope. There wasn't any vampire magic there. He was just really attractive.

"If you'll pardon us for jus' a moment."

He dragged Bobby across the room. Once they were as far away from Lorna as possible (which wasn't all that far—she could still totally hear their conversation), the strange man grabbed Bobby by his shirt and actually hoisted him a couple of inches off of the ground.

"Who the hell is that?"

"Lorna," Bobby spat out, trying to wiggle out of the vampire's grip. He was such a good looking vampire. Way better than the ones on the TV show and all those movies. If this is what vampires looked like, Lorna was ready to hop aboard the bandwagon. Especially if he didn't put a shirt on any time soon.

"Why is she in our room? How long has she been here? Where did she come from? How did she end up here?"

Bobby's mouth opened and closed a few times but no words came out. He reminded her of a fish. A somewhat cute fish. Great.

She was in a room that was typically occupied by a vampire and a man-fish.

"I may have…maybe…."

"Bobby…." the vampire growled warningly. He quirked an eyebrow. So at least he didn't have an eyebrow twitch.

"." He sucked in a lung full of air, so Lorna prepared for another tangent. But once again, Bobby surprised her. "Please don't tell, Remy. I got this."

"You got this?" the vampire whose name was apparently Remy—not a very good vampire name in her opinion—asked, incredulous. "Icy boy, do you realize who you live with, don' you?"

Bobby gulped. "L-Logan?"

But this only served to anger charming/handsome/creature of the night Remy because he shook Bobby, furious. "_Non_! _Non_! Not Logan! Rogue, Bobby!"

"R-R-Rogue? What about it her?"

"Do you realize what she gonna do to me if she finds out there was a girl in my room all night? Do you?"

Was it her, or were Remy's eyes glowing? Yup. He was definitely a creature of the night.

Also, who was Rogue? Was she Remy's vampire leader? He seemed very afraid of her.

"Bobby," Remy hissed, "Rogue is gonna rip my heart out through my throat, tear it up and make me eat it. Then, after I'm dead, she's gonna beat _you _to death wit' my lifeless corpse. _Do you understand me, boy_?"

Bobby didn't seem to understand, if the look on his face was anything to go by. "You're afraid of Rouge? _Rogue_?"

"DAMN STRAIGHT!"

"But…but…we can't just let Lorna on the streets. She's in trouble. She needs our help."

The two roommates stared at each other. Remy looked about ready to kill Bobby himself, before that Rogue girl could do it for him. His eyes and jaw tightened. For a moment, Lorna thought that Remy would have her thrown out. That she would be back on the streets before the sun fully came up. But then Remy's grip on Bobby disappeared and the younger boy was dropped on the floor.

The scary vampire side of Remy disappeared when he turned to Lorna. When he looked at her, it was the handsome, glamouring, empathic side of Remy. He approached the girl, smiling rakishly. It was like a better version of the creepy leer/eyebrow twitch Bobby gave her last night. He bowed before her lavishly.

"Sorry 'bout that, Miz Lorna." He took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "I'm Remy LeBeau and I must say, if anyone is gonna be responsible for my death, I'm glad it's someone as lovely as yourself."

Lorna found herself giggling and blushing. And it wasn't just the kiss or the accent or the eyes. It was also the fact that he was still completely devoid of a shirt.

It was really such a shame he was a blood sucking undead creature. But such a pretty, pretty blood sucking, undead creature.

Behind Remy, Lorna couldn't help but notice that Bobby was still on the floor, scowling darkly. Like, very, very darkly.

But she couldn't quite pinpoint his reasons for looking so dark. Weird.

But then, so was everything else about this place.

Remy stood, turning away from Lorna to frown at Bobby. "I'm gonna take a shower. You're gonna take care of this girl and this mess while I'm out. And if Rogue asks—and she will ask—this was your idea."

XXXXX

"I know what you are."

"Shut up."

"Your skin is pale white and ice cold."

"Shut up."

"You're so strong."

"Shut up."

"You're dangerous."

"Shut up."

"Everythin' 'bout you invites me in."

"Shut up."

"Your face. Your scent. Especially that amazin' figure you're rockin'."

"Oh my god. Shut up."

"How old are you?"

"You know how old I am."

"Jus' go wit' it. Indulge me."

She sighed. "Seventeen."

"How long have you been seventeen?"

"Seventeen years."

"I know what you are."

"I swear to god if you don' shut up…."

"Do you want me to say it out loud?"

"I want you to shut up."

"Mutant."

Remy ducked when Rogue swung the cue stick in her hand around. He narrowly avoided being cracked against the head with said stick. When he stood back up, Rogue was staring at him with an agitated look on her face, twirling the cue stick between her fingers.

"Are we gonna play or what, LeBeau?"

"Feelin' frisky today, Rogue?" he asked with his infamous Remy LeBeau grin.

"I swear if you don't start this game, this cue stick is gonna be your new boyfriend."

That was enough intuitive for Remy LeBeau to stop harassing his girlfriend and get on with their game. He had a goal in mind anyway. And it wasn't to know the cue stick in a more intimate manner.

Ever so slightly, Rogue had grown distant in the last few days. It was nothing too noteworthy. But it was a few moments, little instances, that began piling up. Remy, being the keen observer that he was, took notice. The way she put more distance between their bodies in bed. How their kisses ended a bit too abruptly, even when she seemed to be enjoying herself just as much as he was. She was still wearing her gloves and still seemed saddened to take them off, which never failed to puzzle him.

It was as if all of the sudden, she didn't like being in a relationship with him.

Remy wasn't sure how he has managed to screw up one of the only healthy relationships in his life, but he didn't like it. Especially because it was a relationship with the woman who had stolen his heart. He did not want to lose her. He loved her so dearly. He wanted to keep her around for as long as possible. He wanted her to love him in return.

They had so much unfinished business.

He had pondered long and hard on how he could save his relationship. After a sleepless night, he finally came to a conclusion:

He needed to make her fall back in love with him so she would realize that, not only was he a sex god, but the best thing that happened to her. So that meant he would have to drown her I love.

Smother her in it, even.

He would love Rogue so much, she wouldn't know what to do with all of it. Except, of course, fall in his arms, whisper sweet nothings into his ear, and make sweet, passionate love to him for days on end. Nonstop. With chocolate. And, if he was lucky, those pink knee high socks of hers.

Yes, that's what he was going to do.

Of course, it's hard to fall in love when there was always a younger X-Man and a testosterone filled mother hen interrupting every stolen moment they had together. Remy LeBeau was sick of stealing moments.

So he bought one.

He enlisted to help of his biggest ally when it came to Rogue: Kitty Pryde.

Kitty Pryde, who had helped him out in the past when she abandoned her room for a night so Remy could pull off Rogue's socks and kiss her silly in private. Kitty Pryde, who as big fan of the two of them as a couple. Kitty Pryde, who cared for Rogue deeply and wanted to see her happy.

Kitty Pryde, who's help didn't come cheap. Thirty damn dollars.

But when the girl worked, the girl _worked_.

From what he gathered, it wasn't hard for her to convince all the girls to head out the house for some bonding fun. What exactly that fun was, Remy LeBeau did not know nor did he care. But she had the girls on board for their estrogen bonding time. From there, it was easy to convince the boys to come along. After the girls bat their eyelashes a few times, the boys willing left with them.

That left only Bobby and the girl he had snuck in. But that wasn't going to be a problem because all the adults would be too busy chewing the ice boy out to notice that Remy and Rogue were, at last, completely alone.

Perfectly alone at last.

XXXXX

Remy was seriously starting to freak her out.

During the course of their relationship, he had always been affectionate. He had always been doting in his own, special, really annoying way. He had always treated her like a princess (except when he was throwing her over his shoulder and into _Wal-Mart _shopping carts).

But there was such thing as too much of a good thing.

When he invited her to come play pool with him, she had been game. It sounded fun. Sounded like the kind of thing she could do with Remy without anything happening that would upset her.

She was, in fact, quite wrong.

Sure, they were playing pool. But she couldn't blink without Remy to tell her how pretty she looked doing so. If she moved a strand of hair from out of her eyes, he would all but recite a haiku about how lovely her hair was. If her eye itched, he would go on for ten minutes about how he wanted to spend every waking moment staring into the "shinnin' green orbs she called eyes." If she lined up to take a shot, he would comment on how her puckered brown and scrunched up nose were so adorable when she was concentrating.

It was really hard to concentrate when there was a tall, handsome Cajun telling her how pretty she was when she was concentrating.

The weird part was, Rogue liked the compliments. She liked every single one of them, even if they were a little….much. Being showered by affection from Remy LeBeau was a gift most women would kill for.

It was just too much. Too much too soon.

It was like her gloves, in her opinion. She didn't have to wear them anymore but she did. Or at least she wanted to. Sometimes she did.

But that wasn't the point.

The point was, she wished for so long to have control. She wished she weren't forced into having to wear her gloves. Now she had control. Now she didn't have to wear them. But, because she was a raging idiot, she couldn't seem to take them off. They were her security blanket, of sorts.

It wasn't that she didn't like touching skin. She loved it. Especially if that skin happened to belong to Remy LeBeau. And if that skin was located on his washboard abs, then she was a happy girl.

But all this touching was a lot to take in. It was foreign and new and as frightening as it was exhilarating. Part of her wanted to crawl back into her long sleeves and gloves so at least she wouldn't feel so naked. So at least she knew she was safe. The same thing was happening with Remy.

Kind of.

She wanted him. She had him. She wanted to love and be loved by him. She did love and she was loved. Everything was perfect. It should have been perfect, anyway. But all the love passing between them was as scary as it was sickeningly cute.

What if one of them—namely, her—messed up? What if things fell apart the way they did between Scott and Jean? What would be left of her heart for her? For Remy?

That's why she was pulling back. Just a little. She was going to stay with him. She wasn't completely brainless. She knew a good thing when she had it. All she wanted to do was….

Just, put a little distance between them. Nothing much. Just enough that if things did go wrong, they would still have some small part of themselves to claim as their own.

However.

The way Remy was acting was really freaking her out. It was like he went from love sick puppy to head over heels in love Great Dane in just a few hours. Had he already fallen for her so hard so quickly?

Oh, this was bad. This was really bad. This was so much worse than Rogue originally assumed. Clearly, the only way to save their relationship was for her to push him away just a little harder.

For both of their good.

That would be hard to do, of course, if he was breathing down her neck and they were alone. Completely, perfectly alone.

Heh. That was kind of odd, actually. Where was everyone?

"_Cherie_? Woo-hoo. Roguey, you there?"

A tan hand waved in front of her face, snapping Rogue at of her thought induced trance. She blinked back into focus. Remy stood next to her, a confused expression painting his features.

"Huh?"

"Driftin' off, _Cherie_?"

"Um, yeah."

"Well, it's your turn."

"Is it?"

"_Oui_."

"Oh. Okay."

Dazedly, she walked around to the other end of the pool table, cue stick in hand. She looked and saw that she had a clear, easy shot right in front of her. Only an amateur or an epileptic monkey could screw up such an easy shot. Since Rogue was neither of these things, she would have no problem. She bent over the table to line up her shot.

Easy as one-two-three.

"So what were you thinkin' 'bout, anyway?" Remy asked, just as she prepared to take her shot. "Me doin' all sorts of inappropriate, smutty things wit' you on this pool table?"

Rogue hit the ball too hard. Could you blame her? How could she not when Remy was just a few feet away, being all gross.

And tempting.

She gasped, watching as the white ball bounced off the table and went sailing towards Remy. Without blinking, the (semi) ex-thief caught it, lighting fast. He looked at it, then Rogue with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that a yes?"

Just because she knew he would catch it, Rogue threw another ball at his head, frustrated this time. Seconds before it could have made contact with his nose, Remy caught it, still unflinching and unaffected. He placed both on the pool table, never breaking eye contact with Rogue.

"Is that pent up sexual frustration I'm sensin'?"

"Please." She scoffed. "I am not sexually frustrated."

He grinned. "I know. I made sure of that."

He barely caught the striped ball she aimed at his head.

"I don't know why you even bother talkin' like that," she continued, once he had set the ball down and shot her a glare. "You wouldn't do somethin' like that. Not here."

"Wouldn't I?" he asked, both eyebrows going up this time.

Rogue nodded, tossing her hair. "You wouldn't. You aren't as bad as you pretend to be, Swamp Rat."

In hindsight, she should have known better. After all this time, she still didn't know better. But she should have. She should have known that if she said that, Remy LeBeau would take it as a challenge.

Next thing she knew, she was seated on the edge of the pool table, Remy LeBeau in front of her with his hands on either side of her hips. The heated look in her eye indicated that she was in some serious trouble.

But the good kind of trouble. The kind of trouble that involved washboard abs and chocolate. It was, in her opinion, the best kind of trouble to be in.

"And you ain't as innocent as you pretend to be either, Rive Rat." He lifted a hand to graze his fingers along her collarbone. "So why don' we have little fun, eh?"

She gulped, her body humming in anticipation. "Here?"

"Right here."

He continued to trace her collarbone until his fingers led him over to her shirt. He idly caressed her there, his eyes hot on her skin before he turned to look her directly in the eye.

"I like this shirt," he told her simply.

Rogue has to look down to remember which shirt she was wearing. Right. Red. Long sleeve. Very pretty. She liked the shirt too. Instead of saying that, though, she just whispered "You do?"

"I do. It looks exquisite on you. I like it for other reasons too."

He hooked his finger on the inside of the collar and tugged. Rogue watched dumbly as the sleeve went tumbling down the length of her arm, leaving her shoulder completely bare save for one, black bra strap. The intrusive finger then slid back along her collarbone and down. Down between her breasts, past her stomach, and all the way to her thighs. Once there, Remy traced lazy circles on the upper part of jean clad her thighs in a manner that could be described as innocent.

Except nothing about anything Remy LeBeau did could truthfully be described as "innocent."

"I jus' wished you had a few more skirts," he commented, watching her face carefully.

Rogue's response took a moment longer than it should have. But her tongue felt thick all of the sudden. "Why."

"Easier access," he said simply, lifting his mouth up to kiss her.

Ah, the kiss. It was official. She was through now. Because his mouth had a drugging effect on her. Not only did he make her thoughts cloudy, but he also made all her muscles loose. She felt limp. Like she wasn't in control of her body. But in a good way.

Nothing about being kissed by Remy could be described as a bad thing. Which kind of contradicts her earlier statement about him not being innocent. But it didn't. Not if a person understood exactly what it was like to have him kissing so ruthlessly, with so much vigor. Because that kind of kiss couldn't qualify as being "innocent." But still too good to be qualified as "bad" either.

Was she making sense? She wasn't sure. She was having trouble thinking. She vaguely recalled that minutes earlier, she had intentions of putting some distance between them because…. Well, she couldn't remember because. But it must have been for a good reason because why would anyone what to put any distance between themselves and Remy LeBeau? Especially when he was doing that thing with his tongue.

Oh. He was doing it right now.

His hands drifted upward so he could grip her by the shoulders. He yanked the other sleeve down so that both her shoulders were completely exposed. Her shirt wasn't supposed to stretch like that but she couldn't find herself caring. Especially when his mouth was moving over to kiss the hollow beneath her ear. And going lower. Oh, good. He was at her neck.

She loved when he kissed her neck.

Shivers shot through her body. But good shivers. The ones that made her feel hot and cold all at once. She was actually feeling pretty hot, right now. Really hot. Why was she wearing all these stupid clothes, anyway?

"Where are the othahs?" she asked, her accent thickened. She hated when that happened.

"Don' worry 'bout them," he murmured, paying special attention to the spot where her neck and shoulder joined. "We're alone."

Then he bit her gently, effectively ending anymore questioning on her part.

Due to her positioning, Rogue could not comfortably get to the washboard abs. But that was okay. Because his chest and shoulders were almost just as nice. So Rogue ran her hands along the length of his torso, feeling his chest vibrate when he made sounds of approval. That's when she remembered: Remy was wearing a button down.

Talk about easy access.

With clumsy fingers, she hastily unbuttoned his blue button down. It had looked very good on him, too. But, she decided, she liked his chest much better than any shirt any day. Her hands were shaking a lot, so she struggled with the buttons. And Remy was of no help. He had taken hold of her face a few moments ago and pulled her mouth back down to meet with his. His fingers were too busy tangling and tugging on her hair for him to help her in the shirt removal process.

She got it eventually. She went to touch his skin, which was sure to be hot, but found that there was still something between them. Remy realized this too. Grunting, he pried his mouth away from Rogue's and took hold of her hands. Remy yanked off both the gloves and threw them somewhere behind her on the pool table. Satisfied with his help, Rogue lifted her naked hands so that she could take a handful of his hair in her fists and tugged on it.

She remembered that Remy was fond of his hair being toyed with while in the midst of a passionate embrace. This time, she knew what she was doing when she pulled his hair just slightly. She knew and expected and wanted it.

Her Cajun paramour seized her hips and, with a growl—an actual _growl_—yanked her as close to him as possible, bruising her mouth to his. Rogue wrapped her legs around his waist to make sure that he was not only as close as possible, but there was also no way he was getting away from her until she was damn ready for him to go away.

As Rogue pushed the shirt from Remy's shoulders, leaving his magnificent torso absolutely and wonderfully bare, she came to the conclusion that she was, indeed, quite wrong earlier.

He would do something like that. Right here. On a pool table.

And she was going to allow him to do it. On a pool table. If she could feel shame right now, she would have been disgusted with herself. But since her boyfriend's lips had drifted lower and his hot kisses were being peppered along on her throat, she honestly couldn't find herself caring.

Specifically because this was typically his go to spot right before his actions went from PG-13 to R.

"Anna," he rasped into her neck. He only ever called her by her name in the most intimate of moments. Even if that intimate moment included a pool table.

He whispered French endearments into her heated skin. She knew French fluently but on occasions like this, she never could understand what he was saying. Her brain was too muddled to translate. Not like it mattered. She knew he was singing her praises, murmuring words of love to her. Because, even if his hand was inching up the back of her shirt toward the spot where her bra was secured, she knew that he would always remind her with the deepest sincerity how much he loved her. He wanted to remind her that, even if they were about to go at it like bunnies on a _pool frickin' table_, he loved her and she was the sole keeper of his heart.

An alarm bell went off in her head. She recalled her thought earlier about putting some distance between them. Rogue still couldn't quite remember the context of that thought, but her non-existent spidey senses were tingling, telling her Remy's bone deep dedication had something to do with it.

The small part of her brain that was still functioning properly screamed for her to stop what she was doing and think rationally for a moment.

Yeah. Well, that small part of her brain wasn't about to be ravished head to toe by Remy LeBeau on a pool table, so Rogue ignored it completely. Not responsible of her, but why start being responsible now?

That small part of her brain would be satisfied though, much to Rogue's chagrin. Because their moment came to a standstill when the sound of a car zooming up the driveway echoed through the halls of the institute. Remy lifted his head from where he was nuzzling Rogue, eyes half lidded.

"You," he panted. His eyes roved her up and down. "You stay here. Remy gonna make sure no one is headed down here, then we pick up where we left off, eh?"

Before she could answer, he leaned up and kissed her swiftly on the mouth. Untangling himself from Rogue's limbs, Remy padded barefoot and shirtless to the window located in the room. She watched him peek out the blinds and stare for several, very long seconds.

"_Merde_," he hissed.

That was all the motivation Rogue needed to hop off the pool table and go see who had pulled into driveway. She tiptoed over to Remy and looked out the blinds herself.

"Didn' I say for you to stay where you were?" he asked, sounding mildly agitated. Not that she could blame him.

Ignoring the comment, Rogue looked at the car. It wasn't one that belonged to anyone at the mansion. Not even a car that belonged to anyone who visited the mansion on a regular basis. The two southerners squinted when two men exited the fancy, shiny black car and headed for the main entrance.

"Whoa," Rogue gasped. "That looks ominous."

"Looks like feds to me," Remy added, closing the blinds. When Rogue looked up at him, she stifled a giggle. His usual immaculate hair was sticking up in various directions. Still irresistible and sexy, though.

"Wonder what they want."

Remy shrugged. "Oh, well. Let's get back to it."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her against his body. Rogue's fingers splayed out across his still completely naked chest. She watched his mouth as it grew closer to hers.

Oh no.

If he kissed her, then it would all be over. She couldn't let that happen.

"Rems, no," she whispered, pushing him away.

"Why?" he asked, looking totally unaffected.

"Not here."

"Why?"

"It's not right. Not here."

When she said that, she watched the lust fade from his red eyes. Instead, disappoint filled them. "Why?"

"Remy. Just…not here, okay?"

It didn't look okay. Not at all. She thought that perhaps he would ignore her pleas and go on with his original intentions.

But he didn't.

He let his head drop with a heavy, defeated sigh.

"_Desole_, Rogue. I got carried away. _Desole_."

"It's…it's okay."

He smiled sadly, his hand lifting so he could caress her cheek. "I jus' feel like I never get to see you anymore, _Cherie_. I miss you. You know you mean the world to me."

When he said that, she remembered. She remembered why she wanted to put some distance between them. His words and that look in his eyes reminded her that they both were up to their necks in this "being in love" thing and she didn't want for either one of them to drown.

She had to save something for themselves. Something for him, in case she messed up. Because she was probably going to mess up, no matter how hard she tried to do otherwise.

"We should..." She cleared her throat. "We should probably head on upstairs. Make sure the feds aren't tryin' to cart Logan off again."

His eyes scanned her face for too long a time. Like he suddenly knew something was wrong. She thought, for an instant, he would say something about it. But he didn't. Instead, he just nodded his head once and said "Okay."

Remy then lifted her hand, bringing to his mouth for a light kiss. Before he could do something that would surely make her question what she was doing, Rogue carefully extracted her hand before he could kiss it.

This time, the pain in his eyes was too prominent to be ignored.

"You should, uh, get dressed."

He blinked at her. He wanted to say something. It was obvious he did. But he didn't say anything. He just went over to where she had so carelessly thrown his shirt on the floor and pulled it on over his broad shoulders.

XXXXX

"Lorna."

She lifted her head, looking at the men in the room who surrounded her. The one who Bobby had introduced her to was seated behind a big, mahogany desk, his head bald and shiny. The other man and the woman were in fancy suits, the kind of suits really important people wore. She knew they were very important because they told her so. Some kind of federal agents.

There was one other man, but he wasn't in the room. He was really…hairy. And gruff. When Bobby revealed he had snuck her in last night, the gruff man yelled at him, using a lot of colorful language before he grabbed Bobby by the collar and dragged him downstairs for an impromptu "Danger Room" session.

Whatever that meant.

It sounded like Bobby got in trouble for sneaking her in. Which she didn't like, because he had been so nice to her when he invited her over and even let her sleep in his bed, while he took to sleeping on the floor. She was pretty sure that the gruff man was torturing poor Bobby in the "Danger Room."

But Lorna had other concerns beyond what troubles Bobby may or not be facing. Because when he explained what happened to the bald one—the Professor?—he called the two feds in the fancy suits. Now they were asking her questions.

But Lorna had no intention of answering.

"Miss Dane."

She looked up. "Yes?"

"Clearly," the Professor began, his voice soothing, "you have been through quite an ordeal. The state you were in when Bobby found you and the bruise on your shoulder indicate you've been through a lot. We are quite sensitive to that and you are welcome to stay here for as long as you feel necessary."

"Thank you."

"But we need to know who captured you, for how long, and what happened."

Lorna pursed her lips, staring stonily at the bald man.

"Miss Dane," one of the federal agents said. She forgot his name. Kauffman? Something like that. "I don't think you understand the severity of the situation. You were kidnapped and held hostage. This isn't uncommon except for the fact you are one of several mutants who have been reported missing this year. We believe there is a connection between each of these events. You are the only one of the missing to resurface so we need to know everything you know."

"I don't want to talk about it," she answered quietly. Because she didn't want to talk about it yet. Even knowing that others' lives were at stake, she couldn't make herself want to talk about it. Because it was still too new. Too fresh.

"Miss Dane," the other agent—Brown?—said, her words clipped with annoyance. "Do you understand what is at stake? We need you to grow up very quickly because—"

Before Lorna could receive a Class A bitch out, Kauffman put his hand on Brown's shoulder, shaking his head.

"Okay, Lorna," Kauffman said, smiling at her softly. "Why don't you step out the room for a moment so Agent Brown and I can speak to Professor Xavier?"

Without saying a word, Lorna got to her feet and walked out the room. Only when she had closed the door safely behind her did the voices inside get back to work. She had no desire whatsoever to know what they were saying. None.

Truthfully, all she wanted was to take a bath and brush her teeth. Then, when she was done, she would crawl into a bed and sleep. Sleep for a long time and try not to have any nightmares. She had been having a lot of nightmares lately. But she hadn't slept soundly in so long, it was totally worth it.

Then, after her nap, she would eat. She would eat so much food until she couldn't eat anymore. Then she would go and sleep some more. But not before she brushed her teeth a few more times. She had already called her aunt and let her know she was okay. So now all that mattered was eating, sleeping, and teeth brushing.

"Lorna?"

She lifted her head. Bobby stood before her, panting and tired looking. Behind him was the gruff looking man. He was scowling. She hadn't seen a lot of the gruff looking man, but from what she was, he scowled a lot.

"Bobby? Are you okay?" she whispered, afraid to upset the angry man behind him.

He stood up straight, clearly trying to look blasé. But whatever the gruff man had put him through had taken a lot out of him. His attempts at trying to look okay were…cute, though. In a weird way.

"Oh, me?" He waved his hand arm in a "no big deal" kind of way. But she saw the action caused him some pain because he winced. "I'm fine. No big deal. How are you?"

Lorna shrugged, aware of the man looking at them both. "Been better."

"Is there something I can do for you?" Bobby asked, his brown eyes big and puppy dog like once again.

"The only thing you can do is get your ass upstairs and change clothes," the gruff man barked. "Because you still have to head outside and get to work on the outdoor track. Now move!"

Bobby did move, and hastily so. The gruff man growled, then cast his sharp blue eyes on her. He raised an eyebrow.

"And what 'bout you, Green?"

"Me?" she squeaked.

"Yeah, you. Are you gonna be stickin' 'round here for awhile?"

"Y-yes. I think so."

"Good. Bobby!"

The teen froze, half way up the stairs. "Yes, Logan?"

"After you finish with the outdoor course, show Lorna around the mansion."

That seemed to make Bobby perk back up. "Okay!" he hollered, rushing up the stairs with a large smile on his face. Lorna found herself smiling after him, having completely forgotten the gruff man who Bobby referred to as Logan.

He was kind of cute. In a geeky, earnest way.

The Professor and the agents chose that moment to exist the office. Brown looked perturbed. The Professor looked patient. And Kauffman just smiled at her lazily.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Miss Dane," Kauffman said, handing her a little business card. "Now, if you ever feel like opening up, you give me a call, okay?"

"Um. Okay."

"That's good. You take care of yourself then, young miss."

Lorna was going to say something to Agent Kauffman. She wasn't sure what exactly. Part of her wanted to tell him to take his business card and shove it somewhere where it'd never see the light of day ever again. But another part of her wanted to thank him for not pressuring her to open up about what happened while she was away. In the end, she did neither.

Because someone else walked into the room.

"MICK! Ol' buddy, ol' pal!"

The vampire from earlier ran into the room, a girl with white streaks in her hair trailing behind him. The whole room watched as Remy threw his arms around the agent in a bear hug, picking the man off his feet and swinging him around.

This place officially qualified as the strangest place on earth.

"Mick, what brings you down here?"

"R-Remy?" the agent stammered.

Remy let the agent go just enough to look at the girl who had come into the room with him. "Rogue, you remember Mick, don' you?"

Instead of answering, the girl just glared at Remy. She put her hands, which were garbed in little black gloves, on her hips.

"Mick, it's so good to see you! What's been goin' on? How's Agent Brown?"

"She's…she's right over there," Kauffman stammered.

Remy looked just beyond Kauffman and saw the female agent, whose black demeanor suddenly disappeared in favor of a somewhat flirtatious smile.

"Oh, hello there, Mr. LeBeau."

But he was already ignoring her in favor of Agent Kauffman. He slung his arm over the other man's shoulder and began leading him out the room, going on about how it'd been too long. Kauffman mumbled something about the Statue of Liberty, but Remy shrugged him off.

"Good as new," the Remy said, leading the agent to the other room. Lorna watched them go, absolutely bewildered.

"What was that about?" she asked no one in particular.

The girl with the streaks in her hair just shook her head.

"You don't wanna know."

**XXXXX**

**For those of you who don't understand what just happened between Remy and the agent, I suggest taking a look at the one shot I wrote, The Great Lenghts of Remy LeBeau. So many people asked about the return of Mick, I couldn't resist bringing him back. Even if it was just briefly.**

**I know this chapter was heavy with vampire puns, but that was unintentional. I swear. But I hope you liked them anyway. **

**Anyway. Will try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. Until then...**

**-M.A.**


	8. The Roommate

**Whao. Okay. Yeah. **

** I know. I dropped off the face of the earth. That isn't like me but personal things and whatnot got in the way. Not to mention, this chapter was a difficult one. Don't ask me how. But I probably retyped it a million times before I felt good about it.**

** I doubt my updates will be this far apart again. But, at the same time, I make no promises. So…you know. Ugh. Sorry.**

** Here's the next chappie. Hope you like. **

**XXXXX**

Well, the extra closet space was nice while it lasted.

Rouge sighed sadly as she finished rearranging her room so that two people could once again occupy it. She had met her new roommate, Lorna, briefly while her boyfriend was off reminiscing with his old buddy Mick Kauffman. Instead of getting caught up in _that _fiasco, Rogue introduced herself to Lorna. She was going to offer to take the green haired girl on a tour, but Logan grumbled something about Bobby already having it covered. So Rogue shrugged and headed upstairs to make room.

She really hoped her new roommate wouldn't suck.

She had enjoyed rooming with Kitty, even if she had been quite trying at times. Not to say Rogue didn't love having a room to herself, especially with the whole Remy thing being factored in. She wondered how their time alone would be affected now that neither of them had a room to themselves. Rogue had noticed that Bobby was giving Lorna goo-goo eyes, which might be a good sign.

Maybe she would sneak into Bobby's room while Remy snuck into hers. It'd be a win-win for everyone.

Oh wait. She was supposed to be putting distance up between herself and Remy. Right. Okay. That was going to be harder than she originally assumed. And she hadn't assumed it'd be easy in the least.

This sucks.

Behind Rogue, someone coughed awkwardly. The Goth spun around and found her new roommate hovering in the door, soaking wet and draped only in a towel. Rogue's eyes were immediately drawn to the ugly bruise on her shoulder.

"Rogue, right?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah. And you're…naked."

"Yes, but most people just called me Lorna."

Her lips twisted in a wry smile. "Cute."

"Is this my new room?" Lorna asked, looking around. Rogue nodded. "That makes you my new roommate, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then can I ask a favor?"

"…sure."

"Can I please have some clothes? They told me where the shower was but didn't give me any clothes."

Rogue's eyes widened slightly as she examined Lorna closely. "You don't have…anythin'?"

"Nothing," the girl answered, blushing slightly.

"Oh. Okay. Just, uh, hold on a second. Your bed is right there." She pointed to the other side of the room where a perfectly made bed was, all but waiting for Lorna to get comfortable in it.

Lorna went to the bed and, after looking it over carefully for a few seconds, sat down and made herself comfy. She tightened the towel around her so that her hands could go to work on braiding her green hair. Rogue looked at her for a pregnant moment, mildly astounded at how pretty her locks were despite the odd color. She then shook the thought and went back to closet so she could find clothes she didn't mind loaning out to Lorna.

She briefly considered, for amusement's sake, giving her one of her more "gothy" outfits but decided against it. She wasn't _that _mean. She then wondered if Lorna wore outfits that didn't clash with her hair. Would she settle for a red shirt? After a mental debate that lasted longer that completely necessary, Rogue finally just grabbed some dark jeans and a black shirt before padding over to her drawers to find some…other things for Lorna.

God, this was so insanely weird.

Rogue turned to look back at Lorna. She noticed that while she was working on braiding her hair, her towel had begun sagging in the back. It fell until Rogue almost saw more of Lorna than what was completely necessary. Her entire back was exposed. It was then Rogue noticed something else.

"Oh my god," she gasped, dropping everything in her hand.

Lorna spun around to see what was wrong, her green eyes big and filled with panic. "What? What's wrong? What happened?"

"Your…back…"

It seemed as if she didn't know what Rogue was talking about at first. Her brows came together in confusion as she looked over her shoulder to see what it was Rogue was talking about. Then she gasped, sounding very much like her roommate, scrambling to pull the towel up. It was, however, too late. Rogue ran over to where Lorna was seated on her bed and yanked the towel down while Lorna pinned it to her chest.

Slashed across her back were a series of ragged, painful looking scars. Some were long. Some small. But there was only a small portion of her back that didn't have at least a small scar running along it. What alarmed Rogue the most, besides the obvious abuse that the girl had endured was that the scars looked _fresh_. They were not that old. They still stood out in sharp contrast to her skin, having yet to fade.

Timidly, Rogue lifted her gloved hand. She spared Lorna a look. Already, her breathing had become more ragged and uneven, her green eyes clearly wary of Rogue's intrusion. But since she made no move to stop her, Rouge pressed forward.

She ran her fingers along Lorna's back, barely touching her skin. She was alarmed and frightened by Lorna's scars. Before, she was curious as to where her new roommate came from. Now, questions flooded her mind. Personal questions. But Rogue was a lady. She was tactful. She wouldn't ask someone who clearly had endured some serious trauma several questions.

She would limit herself to only a few.

"Why were those feds here?"

Despite her blatant discomfort, Lorna lifted her chin haughtily. "They want to know about my last known whereabouts. Who kidnapped me."

"I don't suppose you're answerin' those questions?"

"You suppose correct. But that one—Kauffman?—he thinks that if he gives me time I'll warm up and pour my heart out to him."

"That ain't happenin' either, is it?"

"Nope." She made a popping noise when pronouncing the "P."

"How'd you know what Kauffman was up to?"

"I'm not a total idiot."

Rogue paused thoughtfully, pressing her hand fully to Lorna's scarred back. "Is all this from…."

"…yeah."

Whatever the moment the two women were having, whatever it could have morphed into, did not have a chance to fully develop.

"This is so incredibly hot," a third voice said from the balcony.

Lorna and Rogue both turned and found Remy LeBeau leaning against the balcony doors, observing them with very intrigued eyes. Rogue realized how it must have looked, her touching Lorna who wore only a towel. Of course, this would be the _exact _moment her irritating boyfriend decided to make an appearance.

Also, maybe he hadn't noticed, but she did have a door. It wouldn't kill him to be normal and use the door every once in the while.

Hell, she'd be happy if he knocked on occasion. But no. Knocking was too common for the likes of Remy LeBeau. Knocking was too considerate.

The bastard.

Rogue and Lorna both withdrew hastily, Lorna scurrying to pull the towel back up. Rogue let her hands drop to her side, a blush staining her cheeks.

"Is that your underwear on the floor, Roguey?" Remy said mildly with a raised eyebrow.

She sprang to her feet, grabbed her clothes, underwear included, and threw them at Lorna. Remy watched this all with a slight smile and lofty brow.

"What are you doin' here, Gambit?" she demanded, trying to sound annoyed rather than flustered.

"I finished up wit' Mick so I decided to come in and say 'ello." He gave Rogue a heated look. "Maybe finish that _conversation_ we had in the rec room. I forgot that you might be havin' a guest. Not that I'm complainin'. In fact, jus' continue as if I'm not even here. That is unless you want me to join in. If you want me to join in, jus' let me know."

Embarrassment died in favor of agitation. "Remy…."

He grinned. "Hi."

Silence stretched, one that clearly made Lorna uncomfortable. Rather than throwing a punch at the smug X-Man, Rogue decided to spare her new roommate and make introductions.

"Remy, this is Lorna. Lorna, this is Remy."

Lorna smiled shyly. "Oh, I know. We already met."

Rogue stopped, her brows coming down into a line across her forehead. Her eyes darted between her boyfriend and her roommate. Suspiciously.

"You did?" she asked, her voice strangely void of any emotion. She was aware of the panicky look in Remy's eyes but Lorna seemed oblivious.

"Oh, yeah," Lorna said casually, with a slight shrug and a smile. But carefully, so that her towel didn't fall down.

"When?"

"This morning."

"Where?"

"In his room."

Rogue stared at Lorna. "In his bedroom," she repeated. Remy swore colorfully.

"Yeah. This morning. I slept over."

"In. His. Bedroom."

Lorna finally seemed to take notice of Rogue's tone. Her smile instantly faded. "Oh. But, uh, Remy wasn't there when I snuck into his room…."

Rogue growled.

"…the room he shares with Bobby, that is. I didn't even see him until he came in this morning. I didn't see him long. He didn't stick around for long either. He wasn't even dressed…."

Rogue bared her teeth, her growl acquiring more bass.

"…wasn't dressed properly. Um…I'm gonna go and put some clothes on."

"Yeah. Maybe you should do that."

Lorna grabbed the clothes that had been so carelessly thrown her way and pulled them to her chest. It looked like she was considering saying something to Remy, stopped, thought the better of it and instead padded out the room toward the bathroom. The whole way, Rogue couldn't help but notice, Remy watched Lorna's departure very intently. When the bathroom door closed solidly behind her, Rogue pulled back as far as she could and punched Remy LeBeau in his arm.

"OW!" He pouted, rubbing his sure to be bruised arm. "Why you hittin', Rogue?"

She glared. "You were starin' kinda hard, Rems."

"To be fair, did you see her figure, Roguey? It was—OW! Rogue, that hurt!"

"You're a man whore, Remy."

His indignant pout faded in favor for one of his more notorious smiles. "But I'm your man whore." Without waiting for her to respond, Remy slipped his fingers through her belt loop and dragged her toward him. "Now, care to explain why I caught you and the new girl gettin' intimate? And will it be a common theme between you two? And if so, will nudity be a major factor? And if so, will I be invited to this? And if so, will I be able to participate?"

"Remy…."

He continued, as if she hadn't even spoken. "And if not, can I at least give you notes? Or maybe set up a camera for—OW!"

"You done yet?"

He opened his mouth, preparing to protest, she could tell. Then he seemed to realize it would probably result in more damage being done to his already abused arm. So instead, Remy clamped his mouth shut and nodded silently, if not sulkily.

"We were not gettin' intimate, by the way." She punched him again, one last time, only not as hard. "Did you see those scars on her back? And that bruise on her shoulder?"

"I saw the bruise. Won' really payin' attention to her back."

"It was covered in them. At least a dozen of them."

Remy frowned down at her, then shook his head. "_Non. Non_. Can't be anythin'. Everyone got scars. You and me both." She watched as he reached up to absent mindedly rub the scar on his chest. At some point, she really needed to get around to asking him about that. "So maybe Lorna has a few more than the rest."

"No, Rems. You don't get it." She pressed her hands to his chest, curling her fingers into his shirt. "They're new scars. Fresh. All of them."

He stared down at her. "You don' think we stumbled 'cross another mystery, do you Scoob?"

"Don't make jokes. This is serious."

"I'm being perfectly serious. I jus' don' understand why someone else can't solve the mystery this time. In fact, why don' we let 'em."

"What?"

"Whatever happened to Lorna—whatever made those scars—it ain't none of our business. It's hers. And we don' need to go pryin' through her personal life. We got no need to intrude."

"…you're kiddin' me."

"I'm not. She's safe and here now. Mick is gonna watch out and take care of this. So why don' you keep your perfect nose outta this, kay?"

Rogue shook her head, as if that would help her understand what was happening before her. But even after shaking her head, she still couldn't quite come to terms with what just happened. She stared up at Remy, half stunned. Half suspicious.

"Are you tellin' me that you, Remy LeBeau, the man who has made a career of knowin' people's secrets, the man who invades his teammates privacy jus' to keep yourself from gettin' bored, the man who finds breakin' and enterin' as 'fun', wants to _mind his own business_?"

He flashed a toothy smile, bestowing a kiss to her forehead.

"Jinkies," she breathed.

He lowered his head so that his lips could brush the side of her mouth. "Wanna play wit' my zoinks?"

"Remy!" she screeched, shoving him away. Not like he cared or anything. He was too busy laughing at her. After all this time, how did he still manage to scandalize her with his disgusting comments?

She should be used to this by now.

"Sorry," he said, reaching out to grab her once more.

"No you aren't."

He thought about it. Then he nodded. "You're right. Now come here."

When he urged her toward him, she did not resist. She allowed for him to pull her to his chest and kiss her on the mouth, softly. Not all heatedly like before. Like she was his emerald. Like she was delicate. As if she couldn't kick his ass from here to next month.

Seriously. How does he do that? Be all gross one minute and then sugary sweet the next? No wonder Rogue couldn't get a grip on their relationship. He was always changing things up on her.

"Are you okay, Rogue?" he asked when he lifted his head.

She looked at him dreamily. "Hmm?"

This seemed to amuse him because he smiled, lifting her gloved hand to examine it casually. "Is everythin' okay?"

"Why are you askin'?"

"No reason really," he answered, shrugging. "You've jus' seemed a little…"

This snapped her out of her daze. "A little what?"

"Off. That's all. I jus' wanted to make sure everythin' in that pretty little head of yours was okay. Is it?"

"Is it what?"

"Okay?" he asked, quite serious.

Okay.

She should have known he would have at least kind of caught on to her. But what was she supposed to say?

_Well, Rems, I positively terrified of you breakin' my heart. But what I'm even more afraid of is me breakin' your heart. So I decided that I was gonna put some distance between so just in case the shit does hit the fan, we'll both walk away only mildly stinky. I know, I know. It sounds crazy and selfish. But this is better for the both of us, me not bein' invested in this relationship completely. Trust me. Now: do you wanna make out?_

She doubted Remy would take that bit of news lightly. But then again, he never took any news of minor importance lightly.

For such a manly man, Remy LeBeau was kind of a big baby.

But now he was looking at her with those frighteningly intense eyes, worried about her. It was quite hard to not give him to truth. Even harder not to give him her heart. Especially when he had already happily forsaken his to her. It made her question her motives.

But this was something she had to do.

"I'm fine, you idiot," she told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek to assure him she was fine. Not that he looked convinced or anything. Like in the rec room, she could see he wanted to say something to her. Something, some kind of emotion and thought, was brewing in his dark eyes and he wanted to say it.

But he didn't.

Instead, he gave her a shaky smile and nodded, kissing the back of her hand.

"Okay."

He started to pull off the glove on the hand he was cradling. That was simply something Rogue could not let him do. She was going to stop him, even if he gave her that wounded puppy look again.

Luckily, she wouldn't have to stop him.

"Ta-da!"

The two southerners turned to the door, where Lorna stood posing, garbed in Rogue's dark clothing. She did a little twirl.

"How do I look?"

"Clothed," Rogue answered.

"Less naked," Remy said at the same time.

Lorna nodded approvingly. "I'll take it." She took notice of Rogue and Remy's close proximity. "Um…am I interrupting?"

"Yes," Remy answered.

"No," Rogue said at the same time. She looked at her boyfriend. "I've gotta show Lorna around the mansion." She turned to Lorna and cast her the most withering glare in her arsenal. "Right, Lorry?"

The glare hit home. "…err, yes?"

"So, as you can see Remy, I got stuff to do."

"…if you say so, _Cherie_." He ran his thumb over the material of her glove with deliberate care, frowning slightly. But it was only a passing moment. Because then he headed to the exit.

When he started to leave the room, Rogue let out an inward sigh of relief. She had gotten out that debacle with minimal damage. Maybe, just maybe, she and Remy could walk out of this okay. Maybe he wouldn't make this too hard for her. Maybe they'd be okay.

"Rogue."

She looked to where he stood, hovering in the doorway. He had a look on his face. A look she had so rarely seen on him before. He shifted on his feet awkwardly, the expression on his face rather…uncomfortable. Like he was unsure of himself.

And Remy LeBeau was _never _unsure of himself, the cocky bastard.

"Yeah?"

"I'm…I'm….I'm gonna get you a gift."

She went blank, having not expected that. "Huh?"

He nodded his head vigorously, as if he was trying to convince himself this was a good idea. As he nodded, his dark hair fell into his eyes. He needed a haircut, she noted.

"_Oui_. The best present ever. It's gonna be amazin'. It'll make you so happy. It'll be… It's gonna make you fall in love wit' me all over again. Trust me."

Rogue stifled a groan.

Or maybe Remy LeBeau would be the death of her.

**XXXXX**

** Next chapter should arrive kind of soon. I'm excited for it. **


	9. The Density

**Yay. New chappie.**

**Rogueloves22: I imagine Logan is quite satisfied with the rooming arrangement. I hope, at some point, to squeeze that into the story somewhere. **

**BlueFox: have a little faith. I promise, everything will work out in the end. How it'll work out is what the fun part. **

**Anyway, new chapter awaits. **

XXXXX

"I tell ya, man, this relationship stuff…it ain't easy. I've never really been in a real relationship before. Did you know that? You know about Bella, don' you?"

"Yes, but—"

"But Bella don' count. 'Cause that won' a relationship. That was pure insanity. You know what I mean?"

"Well—"

"Nah. You got more common sense than I do. You probably ain't done anythin' stupid like that, now have you?" Remy laughed. "And we both know what kinda silly stuff I can do, eh?"

"Yes, we do, but I have to ask—"

"I don' mean to bother you 'bout this. I'm jus' really confused and I needed to talk 'bout it wit' someone. And I know what you're thinkin'. I'm in a mansion full of people, so why can't I talk to one of them. Trust Remy, I know where you're comin' from. But you gotta realize who I live wit'. Half of them are so young they still think they can get cooties. The ones that are at least semi competent ain't necessarily in the best position to be offerin' me relationship advice."

"But, Remy—"

"I mean, Scott and Jean. The golden couple. Even they got broken up by a blonde wit' implants. "

"Implants?"

Remy gestured at his chest. "Implants."

"Oh."

"Then there's Wolvie but I'm half sure that his romantic history ain't the cleanest. Not that mine is either, but I think mine probably got less bloodshed. Know what I mean?"

"Err…no."

"Then there's Charlie. Good ol' Charlie. But I don' think he's gonna be able to help ol' Rems out wit' his lady problems, what wit' him bein' in love with his world peace/acceptance cause. Even though I heard he does have a kid somewhere in Scotland. Which is jus' weird…"

"Remy, you have to—"

"I mean, I s'pose if I really wanted to talk to someone there, I could. But you seemed like a better option. So tell me: What do I get Rogue?"

"Hopefully something you bought and does not involve destruction of property."

Remy threw his head back and laughed. "That's why I like you."

"I wasn't joking. Now, really—"

"I don' know why I opened my big mouth and told her that I was gonna get her a gift. I don' know what came over me, buddy. But the way she's been givin' me the cold shoulder…it got to me. Not a lotta things get to me. Not unless she's involved. It jus' seems like every time she looks at me, there's a sprinkle of sadness or somethin' in there. Like she's happy but not completely. But I don' know what I could have done."

"Remy—"

"You don' think she's mad 'bout me almost sexin' her up on the pool table, do you?"

"…what?"

"I mean, sure. It was kind inappropriate. But she pretends like she don' like the risk and the adventure either. She pretends to be the innocent little angel when it comes to me. She ain't. Don' let them big eyes fool you. What kinda angel has that kinda body anyway? Have you seen that girl's figure?"

"No."

"Good. 'Cause if I find out that you've been eyein' my girl, I'd have to pluck out your eyeballs. And I don' wanna do that. I happen to like you. I don' wanna have to rip your eyes outta your head."

"Thank you?"

"Welcome. Now, you outta help me in return."

"I outta?"

"_Oui_. That's what friends do."

"Friends?"

"Of course! So tell me, buddy, why is Rogue gettin' all distant on me all the sudden?"

"Honestly, I don't have the faintest idea why."

"Well, what kinda present can I get her so that she'll realize that not only am I the best sex she is ever gonna get in her life, but that I'm her Remy and she's my Rogue? That we're s'posed to be together. No matter what. Even if I join up wit' a bad guy, become his evil death horseman, and try to kill her a couple of times."

"Would you ever do that?"

"_Non_. That's jus' an example. But even if that happens, she's gotta remember that she is my world. Even if I do try to kill her 'cause that bad guy messed wit' my head, she has to know that somewhere, 'neath all that crazy, Remy LeBeau would still do anythin' jus' to see her smile. My love won' stop. Even if my skin becomes black as night and my hair as white as snow."

"That's…sweet?"

"_Merci_. So tell me: what gift do I get for her that will let her know how strongly I love her?"

"I…I don't know, Remy. I'm sorry."

He sighed. "It's cool. I guess this is jus' gonna have to be one of those things I gotta figure out by myself, _non_?

"Yes, yes. Now I have to ask you something."

"_Oui_, Mick?"

"How did you get this phone number?"  
>XXXXX<p>

Lorna really liked Rogue, which is why she felt guilty. Because Lorna hadn't slept soundly in days. Which meant Rogue hadn't slept soundly in days.

Lorna was riddled with nightmares. Every night, without fail. Most nights consisted of painful moans and nonstop tossing and turning. And those were the good nights. On a bad one, Lorna would wake up screaming. If Rogue somehow managed to fall asleep, Lorna always managed to wake her right back up.

It made her feel bad.

Rogue insisted, with circles under her eyes, that it was okay. That she understood. That it was all good. Lorna almost believed her.

Almost.

At one point, she noticed a sleep deprived Rogue threaten to cut someone's hand off for a small offense and Lorna assumed that she was cranky due to lack of sleep. Several of her new teammates quickly corrected her.

Apparently that was Rogue's typical demeanor.

The only person who seemed capable of calming Rogue down was her boyfriend who may or may not be a vampire. He was nice, creature of the night or not. He made a point of telling Lorna that everyone had scars. He told her that he wasn't prying. But he said that if she ever felt the need to talk about it, he was the "very last person to judge anyone." That was sweet.

But it was totally not happening.

As nice as he was, Lorna couldn't even begin to fathom how to tell someone—Remy, Kauffman, Bobby, the Professor—what she went through. Something inside of her wanted to talk. It was that something that stopped her from throwing out the card Kauffman gave her.

She just couldn't find the words.

The agent's words rang in her head nonstop. About how she was one among several mutants who had just up and disappeared in the past year. About how she was the only one to escape. When she was being held, she didn't see anyone else. Didn't hear anyone else. It had never occurred to her that others would be there.

But why not?

Lorna wasn't so vain that she believed she was the only girl special enough to be experimented on against her will for, from what the authorities told her, just over a month and a half.

So maybe there were others out there. Ones that didn't watch the same crappy _Lifetime _survival shows that Lorna did. Ones that didn't, by luck or divine intervention or something, manage to escape and find a safe haven.

Others were still being held. Other people needed her to put on her big girl undies, open her mouth, and talk about what happened.

But she couldn't. _She just couldn't do it_.

Because she still hurt. Physically and mentally. She still had nightmares. Her body still ached from time to time. She would always have scars. She doubted she would ever be able to see a needle again without almost passing out from sheer terror.

It still hurt.

So she couldn't' talk about it. She just couldn't.

Her inability to speak up left her wrought with guilt, which occupied her thoughts during quiet nights before she dozed off to what was sure to be an unpleasant slumber.

Lorna's nights were hell.

The days were kind of cool though.

With a lot of convincing, her aunt let her move into the mansion with the other kids. She would be starting a new school soon. She got an awesome new uniform and they would be helping her work on her powers. Her powers, which she had scarcely used since she escaped. The big angry man, the red head named Jean, and the Professor were all trying to coax her into using her powers but it wasn't something Lorna was comfortable with.

It reminded her too much of her imprisonment. It was, in her opinion, the reason for her being kidnapped in the first place.

She knew, eventually, she would bounce back from the whole "being afraid to use her powers" thing, but it was a work in progress. She would get around to it.

Eventually.

But besides that, everything was going great. Some of her teammates seemed kind of annoyed with living with a bunch of other teenagers but Lorna loved it. She didn't have any siblings but now it was if she was adopted into a family.

One big, happy, dysfunctional, super powered family.

But not actually a family. Because some of the guys on her team were kind of really attractive.

Like, kind of really, really, attractive. And to have those sort of thoughts about an actual brother would be highly inappropriate. But with only figurative brothers in her life like Remy LeBeau and Bobby Drake, it was more than okay.

Oh. Bobby.

He was a sweetheart. And absolutely smitten with her. He was trying to hide it but he was doing a crappy job of doing so. Because he was so cute and funny, Lorna pretended to be naïve. Not just because she liked the attention and didn't want it to end sooner than necessary. Not just because she didn't want to embarrass Bobby.

Because she wasn't exactly sure what she wanted. Her life had gone in so many different directions. Now there was the potential for romance. She wasn't sure, despite liking Bobby and his attention, if she wanted or needed that right now. So until she figured it out, she wouldn't get Bobby's hopes up.

He deserved better than that.

So to sum it up, Lorna Dane was overwhelmed.

"Hey, Lorry?"

She looked up from where she was reading on her bed. Bobby hovered in the open doorway, blushing just slightly.

He was always blushing around her.

"Yeah, Bobby?"

"I was wondering if…"

"If…?"

"Well, there's this movie playing and I know you have a lot on your mind and junk…but do you maybe wanna see the movie? To get your mind off all that junk? Maybe?"

She smiled slightly. "Would I be seeing this movie with you?"

"…maybe?"

Lorna grinned, crawling off her bed.

She may be overwhelmed, but some of it was in a good way.

XXXXX

How she got here, she didn't remember. How it progressed to this point, she wasn't all that sure about either.

Not that she cared or anything.

It didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was here. Now. Living the moment. Enjoying the moment.

And oh, what a moment it was to enjoy.

Rogue tightened her grip on Remy's shoulders as he continued to kiss every coherent thought out of her head. Her whole body was acting funny, sending icy-hot trendills down the length of her spine all the way to her toes.

He lifted his mouth to kiss her along the line of her jaw, leaving a fiery trail in his wake. Rogue tried and failed to stifle the little noises he always seemed to be able to make her make. Giving up, she decided to just get comfortable on his lap and let him do what he wanted.

Wait. What? His lap? Weren't they just standing up a minute ago?

Weird. But whatever. Rogue decided to worry about it too much because she was in the middle of a Remy LeBeau make out session. Thinking was one of the last things on her mind. And if that sentence didn't make sense, that only further made her point. And if that sentence didn't make sense either:

Exactly.

His thieving hands inched his way beneath her blouse to caress the forbidden skin found beneath. She sighed into his neck, inhaling immediately after so she could enjoy his Remy LeBeau scent.

Which, for some reason, she couldn't smell, but she knew how he was supposed to smell so that was good enough.

As he started doing that thing to her ear he knew she liked so much, Remy would pause to murmur words of love into her ears. She really loved when he did that. It made her feel precious. Which was always a pleasant contrast to the other things he made her feel, most of them not quite as innocent.

Speaking of not innocent, Remy's hands roamed from beneath her shirt (which was a shame, because he was just about to get to the good part) in favor of feeling the curve of her hip and stroking the length of her legs. His mouth found hers once more and he showed no mercy. Whenever he kissed her, Rogue could literally feel her grip on reality slip and could not find herself caring in the least. She let herself slip so that he could fully envelop her in his world of kisses, innuendo, impromptu but very satisfying sex, and Cajun spices.

Her hands slid down to the plains of his chest. Which was naked. Which was weird. She swore he was wearing a shirt only a few seconds ago. Man, Remy worked fast. Not like it surprised her.

One time, they were on the couch watching _House _and the next thing she remembered was them being upstairs so Remy could give her a thorough examination of his own.

Yes, indeed, the boy worked fast.

In fact, his fingers were inching his way up her skirt. Why in the world Rogue was wearing a skirt in winter was beyond her comprehension but she imagined Remy was to blame for this too. He probably convinced her to put it on. Didn't he say something about easy access just a few days ago?

Ohhhh….

Rogue melted into a big pile of estrogen and want when Remy showed her exactly what he meant when he said "easy access."

She would be sure to invest in skirts.

Rogue moaned. And then she moaned again. And she pressed her lips to his neck and sighed his name and made a few more noises and—

_**WHACK!**_

__The Goth bolted upright, confused and more than frightened. She looked around for Remy to help protect her from whatever had hit her on her head. But she didn't see Remy. Or the room they had mysteriously been disrobing in. In fact, she was in her room. In the dark. In her bed, her blankets tangled around her legs. She was sweating.

And Lorna was sitting up in the bed across from her scowling.

Rogue looked down and saw one of her roommate's pillows lying on the floor beside her bed.

Oh.

"I'm the one who keeps people up at night, not you." She turned over, huffily. "Shut up with the moaning."

With that, the room was silent once more.

Rogue remained sitting up, looking down at herself. Then she sighed, realizing that her dream was only that.

A dream.

She lay back down in bed, trying to find some semblance of comfort. And understanding.

Livid dreams about Remy LeBeau weren't _that _uncommon. But she had been having them more frequently of late. She concluded because she was going into withdrawals after having their time together cut in half. Not just because she had been pulling away from him.

But the whole roommate thing was seriously putting a damper on Remy-Rogue time.

Rogue lifted her gloveless and pale hand and gazed at it thoughtfully. In the dark, her white skin all but glowed. She thought it was pathetic. Remy found it "enchanting." He told her this last week, when they were on the couch watching a movie. He was holding her hand, staring at their twined fingers thoughtfully. Ever since then, Remy had developed a weird obsession with looking at her arms, her fingers specifically.

Rogue thought was freaking out before, but now she was ready to have a full blown panic attack.

Why, in the name of all things holy, had Remy become so very fascinated with her hands? He had been acting so strangely, lately. Strange, even by his standards.

He had grown more quiet. He stared at her, which wasn't all that new. But now, rather than having a stare that was affectionately stalker-ish it was more…contemplative. Like she was one of his puzzles and he was trying to figure her out. The time they could have spent making out was spent with Remy staring at her and Rogue trying to pretend like it wasn't creeping her out.

But why the hell was he eyeing her like she was a blueprint to Tony Stark's mansion?

She suspected that it had something to do with the gift he had been intending to get her. He only mentioned it once, that first day with Lorna. Some people might have thought that he forgot all about it. She hadn't received a gift and a month will have gone by soon and he hadn't mentioned it.

But Rogue new Remy LeBeau better than that. She knew Remy LeBeau was scheming in that perverted little head of his. Beneath the perfect brown hair was a very complex mind that even his girlfriend couldn't even begin to interpret it.

Sure, the majority of those thoughts centered around sex, chocolate, motorcycles, or a combination of all three. But when he wasn't thinking of that, he was an enigma.

What the hell was he thinking about?

There was a point in their relationship where Rogue was comfortable enough to come right out and ask him. Now? Now it was like there was this unspoken tension between them. Remy knew something was up. Rogue knew he knew. He wasn't an idiot. She knew he was perceptive. There was no way he couldn't tell that something was going on. What was odd was that he made no mention of it.

It just hung in the air between them.

Maybe, she realized while she stared at her painted red nails, that was the reason he had been staring at her like she was a puzzle. Maybe he was trying to understand what happened to them. Even if that was the case, that was so unlike Remy. So…

Not intrusive.

And it didn't explain his new fascination with her hands.

Or why he had stopped pulling her gloves off as frequently.

Rogue tried to slow her rampant thoughts. Tried not to be so concerned about whatever it was her boyfriend was up to. Tried to persuade herself that what she was doing was for the best for both of him. That less cuddle time and more steamy dreams were going to have to be worth it in the end. But she knew that she wasn't so sure about anything anymore. She was even a little scared.

And she didn't have her Remy LeBeau there to help make it better.

God, she was really dense sometimes.

XXXXX

That was it.

He didn't know why he didn't think of it sooner. What was his problem? He claimed to be a genius master thief and yet he hadn't thought of the most obvious and perfect thing sitting right in front of him.

Seriously. It was perfect. Obvious. But so obvious, he hadn't thought of it. So obvious, she wouldn't expect it. So obvious it was flawless. It was just sad it took him so long to figure it out.

But even Remy LeBeau could be a little dense at times.

**XXXXX**

** NEXT CHAPTER: Rogue worries, Remy unveils his gift, and Lorna freaks out. **


	10. The Gift

**Well, hello there. Late night update. Or at least it is for me. Almost four in the morning. **

**Thanks to everyone who got the black-skin-white-hair joke. I so love inserting those in there.**

**BlueFox: I do believe this chapter will earn back some of your trust.**

**Fire Makes Me Smile: I am back! And I'll try to not make the gap between chapters as large. And I will get around to fixing those mistakes. Thanks bunches.**

**And onward to chapter ten!**

**XXXXX**

"Mind if I join you?"

Rogue looked up, more than surprised to find Emma Frost standing over her. She was even more surprised to see the blonde wearing a white mini skirt. Rogue understood that Emma liked wearing revealing clothes. But seriously?

There was a chance it was going to snow tonight.

Despite Emma's poor choice in clothing, Rogue saw no reason to not allow her fellow teammate to join her. She was seated in the rec room, along with almost every other member of the X-Men. All of them were engaged in various activities. Rogue had been sitting alone at a table with the only vacant seats left. And since she and Emma had formed a very tentative pseudo-ish friendship since Emma proved she wasn't a completely cold hearted wench, Rogue nodded and gestured for her to take the seat across from her.

Emma sat and then looked at the activity Rogue had been engaged before she arrived. A game of solitaire. "Picking up Mr. LeBeau's habits?"

"It's hard not to."

"Where is Remy anyway?"

Rogue shrugged. "Probably robbin' someone blind."

"I thought he was turning over a new leaf? Leading an honest life? 'Makin' t'ings go boom for the betterment of society?'"

Rogue snorted. "And you believed him?"

"Oh. Right." Emma laughed at herself. "Silly me."

"And while he may not necessarily be up to any thievery, it's probably no good. I haven't seen him since he left this mornin'?"

"And when, exactly, was that?" Emma asked with a knowing smile. Rogue scoffed and turned back to her game.

"Shut up, Frost."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"Shut up, Emma."

"I suppose that's a yes?"

"That's a none of your damn business."

"Oh. It _is _a yes."

"And what about you?" Rogue demanded, slamming a card down. "How's your love life goin'?"

Emma sighed wistfully, casting her gaze across the room. Scott was there, engaging in a game of pool with some of the other boys. Emma watched him for a very long time. Rogue watched for just as long a time, but only because she remembered what she had done on that pool table just a couple of weeks ago.

She really hoped Emma couldn't hear her thoughts.

"Don't worry," the blonde said, turning back to Rogue. "I can only get a vague idea of what you're thinking. Which I am thankful for. I don't think I want to know the full extent of your thoughts."

"You don't."

"And in regards to the state of my love life, it is nonexistent. You know Scott. So noble. We have formed a very careful friendship but nothing more. Meanwhile, he and Jean are able to speak without her attempting to claw his eyes out."

"Progress, I guess."

Emma shrugged noncommittally. "What about you and Remy?"

Before Rogue could not answer the question, the sound she came to associate with Remy speeding into the gates of the mansion thundered through the room. "Speak of the devil and he will come."

Emma did not respond. She had a somewhat far off look in her ice blue eyes. She tilted her head to the side inquisitively, her brow puckering.

"Emma?"

"Shh…I'm finding out where Remy was."

"You're readin' his mind? Isn't that kinda…intrusive?"

"This is me we're talking about. Besides. It's not so much I'm reading it. He's all but screaming his thoughts excitedly."

Rogue sat up straighter. "He's excited?"

"Shhhh!"

Rogue watched Emma, who sat motionless, silently. There was a significant gap before she spoke again. When she did, Emma nodded with understanding.

"Oh. I see."

"See? See what? What do you see?"

"Oh." Emma pressed a hand to where her heart was rumored to be. "How sweet."

"Sweet? What's sweet? Did he buy more chocolate? We still have two bottles of chocolate syrup left. What's sweet?"

Emma frowned deeply at Rogue. "That was far more information than I ever needed to know. Are you aware of the fact that Remy had intentions of buying you a gift?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well then. He bought it."

"He did?"

"That is where he went this morning."

Before Emma had a chance to further interpret Remy's thoughts, Rogue had thrown herself across the table and was holding her by the collar of her shirt. Surprised blue eyes met wild green ones. Rogue not-so-gently shook Emma.

"TELL ME!"

"…excuse me?"

"Tell me! What did he get me? What, what, what, _**what**_!"

Emma stared at her for a beat. She then coolly brushed Rogue's hands away. "Darling, do not take this the wrong way but I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't muse this blouse. I do not think you could afford to purchase me another one. As for what Remy got you, I do believe that he wants it to be a surprise. I would _so _hate to ruin his surprise."

"_**Emma!"**_

"He's looking for you right now."

As if on cue, Remy LeBeau, clad in his faithful duster, entered the room. He was obviously in search of Rogue, his dark eyes scanning the room for her. Rogue half considered slinking out before he could find her and hiding.

Emma, apparently, had other ideas.

'Remy! Reeeeeeeemmmmy, darling! We're over here!" she yelled, waving him over. Remy broke out in a broad grin, coming toward them. Emma turned back to Rogue, smiling her dazzling smile. She chose to ignore Rogue's glare. "I'm not going to tell you what he got you but I will say that it is something that will prove his commitment to you."

Emma then flitted away just in time for Remy to occupy her now vacant seat.

"Roguey!" he said, smiling that blindingly happy smile.

"Oh. Hey, Rems. Where have you been all day?"

"Out."

"Doin' what?"

He grinned. "Stuff."

"What kinda stuff?"

"Boyfriend stuff."

"What kinda boyfriend stuff?"

"I was gettin' your present."

She hadn't expected him to reveal it so easily. "…you were?"

"_Oui_. And lemme tell ya, Roguey: it's perfect."

"It is?"

"_Oui_." He looked down at her game of solitaire, distracted. He moved a few card around, progressing the game. Moves Rogue hadn't even noticed. He was entirely too good at that. "Anyway, it took me a real long time to figure this one out but when I did, everythin' worked out perfectly."

"It did?"

"_Oui_." He moved his hand away from her card game to take hold of her left one. He ran his thumb over her fingers. "I wanna give it to you tonight."

"Uh…I dunno if that's such a good idea."

"Why?" He didn't ask it unkindly. Or demandingly. It was just a simple question. Why?

"I gotta…I gotta help Lorna with her math homework."

Remy stared at her for too long a moment. "Roguey, did you forget that you're awful at math?" Before she could answer, Remy nodded at something across the room. "Seems to me like Lorry got 'nough help wit' her homework anyway."

Rouge looked. Sure enough, in a corner off to themselves, Lorna and Bobby were hunched over a text book, smiling secretively to themselves.

It was entirely too cute of a sight to be tolerated for more than a few seconds. But Rogue was afraid to look back at her boyfriend. But what else was she supposed to do? Just ignore him sitting there. Maybe with other people, they would take the hint and go away. But this was Remy LeBeau. The more he was ignored, the harder he tried to get attention. And that was just with any regular person. If Rogue ignored him, it was not unheard of for him to do something stupid and very noticeable to get her attention.

Like blowing the head off the Statue of Liberty.

So she looked at him. He was looking at her with eyes that were smoldering with love. So hot, it burned her to her core. Beneath the table, Rogue's toes curled.

"Rogue, I promise." He lifted her hand to his lips. "You will love it."

He kissed each knuckle on her left hand. But when his lips made contact with her ring finger, it all clicked in her head. The perfect gift. Something that would show his true commitment. The way he was staring at her hand so much.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

No. no way. Rogue was overreacting. She was making this into something it wasn't. No way.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

No. It was just her imagination. No way.

He wouldn't.

Would he?

XXXXX

Lorna Dane looked down at the substance before her with a mix of disgust and confusion. She wasn't quite sure what it was supposed to be but she was trying to decide if she was afraid of it or not. She was like, ninety-five percent sure that she was afraid of it. Across from her, Betsy poked and probed hers, her upper lip curled.

"What…the hell is it?" Betsy finally asked, poking it with her fork again.

"Language!" Logan barked from the other end of the table.

Betsy threw her fork down. "I'm over eighteen! Aren't I allowed to swear?"

"Not until everyone else at this table is eighteen too."

"Humph." Betsy pouted. "You swear all the time."

"That's different."

"Not really."

Emma snickered, making Lorna laugh too. Despite this amusing back and forth, she still had no clue what was on her plate. Two seats down, Kitty had adopted a wounded look.

"It's pizza," the prep said softly.

Almost everyone at the table had a simultaneous moment of realization.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh," they said, nodding their heads with understanding. Kitty still looked sad.

"I'm sure that it is…." The Professor cleared his throat but smiled a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm sure it is delicious, Kitty."

"Really?"

He looked down at it, cringed, caught himself, smiled, and looked back up. "Certainly. Everyone, dig in."

Everyone hesitated but, because they seemed to care about Kitty, took a bite. Lorna did too. She then fought hard at not spitting the "pizza" back up. But she didn't. Because she did like Kitty and didn't want to hurt her feelings.

This was only slightly worse than when Remy cooked dinner. When he did, he insisted on covering everything in spices that burned off Lorna's taste buds. Jean was okay, but her food was always very health conscious and kind of tasteless. If she thought about it, her favorite person to make dinner was Logan. His was always healthy but filling and delicious.

She would never forget the image of him standing over the stove with an apron on though.

Still, Lorna ate her dinner, happy to be surrounded by her new family, teammates, and classmates. Around the table, people interacted. Scott and Jean were pointedly not making eye contact. Emma was talking to Betsy about mind reading. Jubilee and Rahne were making fun of Sam and Roberto. Ororo, the Professor, and Hank seemed to be discussing something. Kurt was trying to dispose of his meal as inconspicuously as possible. Kitty and Remy laughed over something while Rogue looked anxious. Bobby was talking to Logan, who was clearly ignoring him in favor of taking a swig of his beer.

This setting somehow made Kitty's pizza and Remy's spices completely worth it.

She lifted her knife but at that exact moment, someone poked her in her side. Lorna squealed in surprise, dropping her knife in the process. Before it could hit the ground, she acted on instinct. She didn't think about it. It happened before she realized she had done it. But Lorna reached out, stopping the knife before it touched the ground.

It hovered only an inch off the ground.

She stared at it for a long time. The knife, then her outstretched hand.

Until this moment, she had been starting to believe she would never be able to use her powers again.

Concentrating, Lorna willed the knife to float higher and higher until it rested in the palm of her hand. Her fingers closed around it and the moment was over. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Then she remembered that someone had been trying to get her attention. She turned to find Kurt staring at her with wide eyes.

"Uh…yeah?"

He looked at the knife then back at her. "…would you pass the salt?"

XXXXX

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

Rogue knew that just because she ignored a problem did not mean it would go away.

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

But she was really hoping that tonight would be the exception.

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

But she doubted it. Because it wasn't just a normal problem she was dealing with.

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

Nothing easy like a fly buzzing through her room.

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

Nothing easy like Magneto.

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

Nothing easy like Logan barking orders at her in the Danger Room.

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

No, her problem was a very persistent Remy LeBeau, tap-tap-tapping on her balcony door. If it weren't for the fact Lorna was in the bed next to her, tossing and turning and groaning as usual, he would have long ago started calling her name. Or he would have just walked in.

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

She had been feigning sleep, hoping maybe he would go away. He wouldn't.

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

He—

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

—just—

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

—kept—

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

—tapping!

Groaning, Rogue pulled the covers from over her head and turned toward the balcony before he could rap on the glass again. Sure enough, Remy LeBeau stood at her balcony doors. Snow drifted slowly from the sky, gathering in his already wet russet hair. When he saw her finally acknowledging him, Remy grinned broadly and waved excitedly at her. Unable to stop herself, Rogue smiled and waved back a little.

She pushed herself out of the bed and padded over to the door. Quietly, she opened the doors and slipped outside, leaving them only partially cracked so she could get back inside. When she turned to Remy, he pulled her into his arms and planted one on her lips before she had a chance to breathe.

She briefly considered fighting him. Then coherent thought went bye-bye. So she just curled her fingers into his duster and kissed him back.

Maybe it was because he was an expert kisser. Maybe it was because she loved him. Maybe because he loved her. Maybe it was all that potential energy in him. Maybe he was just barely using his powers on Rogue in a way that wouldn't hurt her.

Either way, whenever Remy LeBeau kissed her, it was like a hot summer's night. Even now, in winter, with snow drifting around them, kissing Remy felt like she was standing outside on an August night.

When she finally managed to pry her lips from his, her worries from earlier that day flooded her mind.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

This was bad. This was so bad. She should have just left him out here. In the snow. He would have gone in eventually. He might have gotten hypothermia but he would have gone inside at some point. She shouldn't have come out here. And she definitely shouldn't have let him kiss her. She never could think straight when he kissed her. Now she was here and he was going to unveil that gift which she hoped it wasn't what she thought it was.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

The only way this could have been any worse was if he took off his shirt. If he took off her shirt, she was done for sure. Because then she would be able to look at his washboard abs. And when washboard abs were involved, she was a brainless pile of two-toned estrogen and would say yes to just about anything he asked her. And if he took off his shirt and asked her that one question she really hoped he wasn't going to ask her, then she might say yes and then it'd be a really big problem. Because eventually he would have to put his shirt back on and the washboard abs would go away and then she would be able to think straight and realize what a horrible mistake she had made.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

Rogue really hoped he didn't take off his shirt.

Remy smiled down at her, blessing her nose with a tiny kiss. "Roguey."

"…yeah?"

"Remy got a present for you."

"You do…?"

"_Oui_. And I think you will be pleased to know that I didn' eve steal it. I spent my own money on this." He frowned thoughtfully. "Even though where I acquired some of this money might be a slight problem…"

He trailed off thoughtfully. Rogue waited for him to continue but he went on with his contemplation as to where he got his money. Rogue didn't even want to know.

"Remy."

That was enough to snap him out of it. "Huh?"

"The gift?"

"Oh yeah. That. Rogue I…"

He stopped, his gaze drifting downward. He frowned a little more, squinting. With a slight nod, he let go of his southern paramour and knelt down in front of her, getting down on one knee.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

"Remy, no!"

He stopped half-way to the ground, staring up at her in confusion. "Huh?"

"You can't do this."

"…I can't?"

"It's not worth it."

He grinned a little. "I disagree."

"I'm not worth it, Rems," she amended, pressing her hand to her heart.

The little grin disappeared. "This ain't 'bout you, Roguey."

"Huh?"

"This got nothin' to do wit' you."

She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be relieved or insulted. She decided a combination of the two would work well enough for this particular situation.

"What the hell do you mean?"

"What the hell do I mean?" He sat back on his haunches. "What the hell do _you _mean? I'm jus' tryin' to tie my shoe."

"…what?"

"My boots." He gestured at the heavy black boot he wore. Sure enough, the laces on his left boot were loose and resting in the snow that was slowly building up on the balcony. "The things on my feet. To keep 'em safe and warm. These boot are really expensive—or they woulda been if I bought them—and I don' wanna get the laces all wet."

"So you aren't…your gift isn't…"

"Isn't what?"

She didn't answer, flooded with first relief. Then complete and utter humiliation.

God, she was an idiot.

Unfortunately, Remy LeBeau seemed to realize this at the exact same moment she did. Or, at least, Rogue assumed he did if the way he broke out into hysterical laughter was anything to go by. He sat down in the snow so he could laugh at her a bit more comfortably.

And he just laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.

The bastard.

"Shut up," she snapped, blushing. "It's not that funny."

To which he responded to by laughing even harder. Tears leaked out the corner of his eyes. It was at that point that Rogue decided that she was ready to crawl back into her warm bed instead of standing in the snow with her stupid Cajun boyfriend.

Remy caught her by the hand before she could go back into the room, getting back to his feet.

"Roguey, _Cherie_, _mon Coeur_, don' go. I'm sorry. _Desole_. I didn' mean to laugh at you."

"Yes, you did."

He considered this. "You're right. But I didn' mean to laugh_ that_ hard."

"You better get movin' with this gift business before I break my foot off in your happy ass."

"Okay, okay." He took her by the shoulders and pulled her close again. "But seriously. It's me we're talkin' 'bout. You do 'member Belladonna don' you? And my paralyzin' fear of marriage, right?"

"LeBeau…" she growled.

"Right, right. _Desole._"

He reached inside his trench coat, sifting around for something for a few seconds. After a brief search, he pulled out a box. Not a tiny velvet one. It was actually rather long. And narrow. With a nice, neat red bow on it. Without a word, he handed it to Rogue.

She wasn't afraid anymore, now that she knew he wasn't giving her jewelry. Or at least a certain kind of jewelry.

Now Rogue was curious. So she pulled the red bow off the box and let it fall careless to the ground. It contrasted nicely against the pure white snow.

Rogue didn't have any expectations when she pulled the lid off the long, narrow box. Still, she wasn't expecting what she was presented with. In fact, it was the last thing she would have expected to see.

A pair of gloves.

Long black gloves.

She reached out to touch them and they were of the softest material. They felt like water resting on her chilled skin. They had to have been silk. There was no way it could have been anything else. At the very top of each silk glove was a sing pearl button. And they were real pearls, Rogue knew.

Remy LeBeau didn't go cheap.

She didn't want to think about how much this could have cost him. Not like it really mattered. She just stood there, blinking down at her extravagant opera gloves. All of her other gloves were pretty cheap. Her most expensive pair cost about fifteen dollars. They got the job done and sometimes they looked nice.

But these?

These weren't for fighting crime. They were elegant and soft and beautiful. Gloves for special occasions. Gloves that were to be cherished and fawned over and taken care.

Breathlessly, Rogue looked up at Remy. He smiled at her. Smiled the "you're my emerald" smile.

"It took me awhile to figure it out," he explained. "You still wear your gloves and I couldn' figure out why. Then it clicked. You weren' ready to take them off. Not all the time anyway. Maybe you need more time. Maybe you'll always wear them. I didn' get it. I do now. Those gloves are a part of who you are.

"I wanna hold your hand wit' nothin' 'tween us. You wanna wear gloves. That works. 'Cause I'm willin' to bend to your likin' to make you happy. Whatever your likin' may be. So you can have these. And you can wear them. Or not. You don' havta wear them. But it's an option. You always gotta an option wit' me." He came a step closer. "'Cause I love you. Gloves and all."

"Ohhh…" she breathed.

Oh.

She didn't know what to say. But she could feel her heartbeat speed up and she could feel the blood pounding through her veins. She felt her ears starting to hurt from the cold. She felt a lot of things.

She also felt something inside her—deep within—starting to change. Starting to grow. Starting to really come to life. She didn't know what it was, but something told her that it was a big deal. And Remy LeBeau was to blame. She would have liked to further explore this new feeling.

But then, from within her bedroom, a scream tore through the silence of that winter night, effectively ruining and ending the moment between Remy and Rogue.

Seriously. They couldn't get one bloody moment alone without _something _going wrong?

**XXXXX**

** I'm surprised no one was able to guess what Remy got Rogue. I mean, I said it was obvious. It's the title of the story after all, haha.**

**Oh well.**

**NEXT CHAPTER: Lorna reveals some secrets and Remy connects the dots.**


	11. The Nightmare

**ALLREMS: here it is! That new chapter you were looking for. As for the Lorna/Magneto thing, I plan on inserting a joke about that in here. Somewhere…at some point…**

**BlueFox: I'm glad I have restored so faith in you. **

**laraandkurtisfan97: haha, I believe you. You knew it. I'm glad you're enjoying it. **

**Zany: Get ready for the return of Easily Distracted Remy. **

**annacat721: thank you for the lovely review. As usual.**

**Onward we go!**

**XXXXX**

Instead of running to Lorna's rescue, Remy simply raised both his eyebrows, looked inside Rogue's room, then back to Rogue.

"Should I be worried?"

Rogue made a "so-so" gesture with her hand. "She does this most nights. Usually stops after a minute or so. If not, then I wake her up."

"Ah. Gotcha." He reached out to pull Rogue into another kiss but for some weird reason, she pushed him away, looking indignant.

"Remy!"

"What I do?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, pushing the door open and going back into the room. Remy watched her go, trying to determine if he supposed to follow her in.

He knew he wasn't allowed to but Remy LeBeau wasn't allowed to do a lot of things.

He still had a lot of things he wanted to say to Rogue. Some of those things he couldn't accurately convey without the use of his tongue. And she left the door open.

An open door was an open invitation in Remy LeBeau's books.

And a closed door was just a lock pick away from being open.

He padded inside the girls room quietly, shutting the doors behind him. Rogue was seated on the edge of Lorna's bed, trying to rouse the screaming girl as gently as possible. Her gloves were on her empty bed.

The closer he got to the women, the more concern flooded his body. Lorna wasn't just screaming and tossing a little. Her whole body writhed and twisted, her back arching in unseen agony. Tears leaked from the corner of her tightly shut eyes.

In the back of his mind, he felt the beginnings of a memory flash. But he couldn't place it.

Rogue shook Lorna by the shoulders, looking increasingly concerned. "It's never like this." She shook Lorna a little harder. "Wake up, Lor. Lor? Lorna! Lorna, wake up!"

Rogue's efforts were of no avail. Lorna continued to moan and sob in her sleep. Remy found himself kneeling in front of her, trying to figure out what to do in this situation. He was never very good with dealing with distraught women. It was one of many reasons why he and Belladonna were such a horrible match. She was always distraught about _something _and he just sat back blinking like a big dope. At least with Rogue, she vocalized her anger so he knew _exactly _what he did wrong. The part where she threw things at his head wasn't so awesome, but at least he wasn't confused.

Just sore.

But with Lorna, he didn't know what to do. She was so upset and she wasn't even awake. What was he supposed to do? Hug her? Whisper into her ear that it'd be okay while patting her back in a soothing manner? Or did he wake up? Wait. Were you supposed to wake up people who were having nightmares? Wasn't there something that said it was bad to do that?

No. Wait. That was sleepwalkers.

Still didn't explain what the hell he was supposed to do about Lorna.

Rouge was trying hard to wake the distressed girl but nothing seemed to be working. She called her name, growing louder and louder each time. Finally, after almost two minutes of struggling, Rogue just shrugged, pulled back and slapped Lorna across the face.

The green haired girl sat up straight in bed, a sob ripped from her throat. She looked around the room, wide eyed and seemingly unaware of her surroundings. She took a moment to take in Remy and then Rogue before a fresh wave a sobs engulfed her. She then threw herself into Rogue's arms and wailed helplessly into her shoulder.

Remy watched with a mix of confusion and concern. Rogue wore a similar expression on her face. She seemed unsure of how to react to Lorna's unexpected neediness. But since she was clearly in need of a friend, his adorable girlfriend wrapped her arms around Lorna in what had to have been the most awkward hug he had the misfortune of witnessing.

"…there…there…it's okay. It was just a dream."

Lorna shook her head vigorously, not lifting it from where she had buried in between Rogue's shoulder and neck. Remy couldn't help think about how he liked to kiss that one spot in particular.

But he had more important things to deal with at the moment.

Like Lorna. Lorna was very upset. This was more important than kissing Rogue's neck. And biting her gently. And kissing her some more. And maybe working his hands under her shirt and then after that, it wouldn't be hard to inch them farther north. And once he was there—wait. What?

Oh wait. Lorna. Right. She was upset.

The smut would have to wait.

Remy pressed his hand to Lorna's back, but she only cried harder at his touch. He and Rogue shared a bewildered look.

"Lorna…_cherie_, it's okay. It was only a bad dream. It's okay now."

She moaned with bone deep agony, far beyond his help at this point. Rogue, his awkward little Rogue, looked at him helplessly. Comforting or being emotional available to others in need never was a strong point of hers. It was almost funny how lost she was.

Almost.

But this whole situation sucked. Lorna was deeply upset, effectively ending his and Rogue's moment. And it was a moment going so well. After he finished laughing at her for thinking something so unconceivable as _marriage_—hah!—she seemed genuinely surprised and touched by his gesture. He was wondering what she would do. Cry? Smile? Hug him? Kiss him? Recite an ode about his manliness and sexual prowess? Rend off all his clothing and make sweet passionate love to him in the snow?

Actually, he kind of liked that idea. It was a little chilly but it definitely appealed to him. He had a feeling if they moved fast enough, the cold wouldn't bother them much.

He was going to add sex in the snow to The List. It was a list he had composed when he first decided he fancied Rogue of places they would…ahem. Well, either way, he liked the list. Because just as often as he crossed a location off, he would think of a new one.

Up next was in Charlie's office. Remy wasn't sure how he was going to maneuver that one but he would figure it out. In One-Eye's pretty little car was his goal though.

He wondered if he should tell Rogue about The List. Maybe she would have some input…?

A particularly mournful sob pulled Remy back to the situation at hand. Right. Lorna. Upset. She really needed his help.

He needed to concentrate.

As he and Rogue attempted to soothe the girl, she hiccupped and sputtered barely comprehensible words. He could only make out a little bit of what she was trying to say. One thing caught his attention though. Something she whispered. Something he easily could have missed.

"…Essex…"

He hadn't heard the name for years. In fact, it took him several moments to remember why the name resonated with him. But then he had a flash of his youth and being in Canada. The people he saw who were experimented on. The diary he was sent to receive. And a really creepy man whose last name was Essex.

Remy took hold of Lorna's shoulders and jerked her upright without thinking. She didn't really seem to care. She was still crying. But he needed to know. He suddenly needed to know very badly.

"Lorna," he told her urgently, taking hold of her chin. "Lorna, talk to me."

She shook her head, her chin quivering. But she needed to talk.

"Remy…?" Rogue said, sounding confused.

He shot her an agitated look. Couldn't they understand this was important? He lifted her head again, turning it toward his face. If she wasn't going to talk, then he was going to make her.

"Lorna," he said, his voice smooth and persuasive. She looked up, surprised. Which was perfect because he was able to make eye contact. He kicked his empathic charm in overdrive. "Lorna, what was the name of the man who took you? I need to know real bad."

She blinked dazedly. "Nathaniel Essex," she told him.

Nathaniel. Yeah. That was crazy-pants' first name.

"But," she went on, "he called himself Mr. Sinister."

Remy let go of her chin, his limbs seeming to fail him. Without his consent, he found himself sitting down, his whole body numb. Lorna, who seemed to have managed to compose herself somewhat after his empathic influence watched him confusedly. Rogue was growing concerned.

"What's wrong, Rems?"

He exhaled. He hadn't realizes he was holding his breath.

"I think…" His hand reached up to rub the scar on his chest. "I know Nathaniel Essex. He hired me when I was seventeen to do a heist for him. My scar…."

Remy looked at Rogue and Lorna. They both wore identical looks of shock on their face. The fear that had flooded his body left instantly. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please. Don' act all surprised that I worked wit' some bad people. We _all _know I gotta sordid past. Don' even give me that look."

**XXXXX**

** NEXT CHAPTER: Lorna finally speaks up. **


	12. The Confession

**laraandkurtisfan97: I honestly never get used to hearing it because I can't believe people actually like me.**

**iHATEfangirls: I'm glad I won you over. Besides. If you kill me, how will I be able to finish the story.**

**Everyone else: thanks for sticking with me. It took some time for me to connect the dots but I'm glad that you stuck around for it. As always, your reviews are welcomed and appreciated and fabulous. Sorry if this update took awhile. I had a bad case of Carpal Tunnel. If you've never had it: good. It sucks. It totally sucks. I hate it. **

**But I'm back. With a new chapter that is very dialogue heavy. But action is just around the corner…**

**XXXXX**

"Tell me what happened, Lorna."

"…I was walking home. From a friend's house. I was sleeping over but then we got into a huge fight. I don't even remember about what. But we fought and it was horrible so I got angry and I left."

"What time was it?"

"Late. Way later than I should have been out. It was stupid, I know. I knew it was stupid but I had to get out of there, you know? So I was walking around late at night and everything was normal. I was blowing off stream and I started down this bike trail. I went down this trail a million times. It was normally totally safe, so I wasn't freaking out. But then it got weird."

"How?"

"You know that feeling where you don't see anyone around you but you can feel a presence? That's what happened. And then I…stumbled. I don't know. I started tripping. At first it was a little stumble here and there. Then it got worse and worse. Before I knew it, I was holding onto trees and railings and stuff so I wouldn't fall. But…."

"But what, Lorna?"

"But then I got insanely dizzy. Tunnel vision. You know, the works. Eventually, I just passed out. Everything went black and then nothing. I don't even know for how long I was unconscious. When I woke up, I was really confused. Like…really confused. It was very dark and at first I thought I was home or back at my friend's house. I just kinda laid on the floor and looked around, thinking maybe that my eyes would adjust to the darkness. They didn't.

"So I got up and fumbled around in the darkness. I don't know for how long. Heh. I guess I really don't know all that much."

"That's okay, Lorna. Just tell us what you remember."

"I remember that I started freaking the fuck—oh god. I am so sorry, agent Kauffman. I didn't mean to…uh. I started to freak out. I tried to get out but nothing worked. After a while, I got tired of crying and screaming so I just sat. I think maybe I fell asleep at one point, too. The next thing I remember, a light was shining in the room. It hurt my eyes at first but then my eyes adjusted. There was a woman standing in the doorway.

"I asked who she was, where I was, and blah, blah, blah. They typical 'I have no clue what's going on' questions. She told me not to worry and that I needed a doctor. She told me that everything would be okay and I just needed to follow her."

"What did she look like?"

"She was pretty. Kinda exotic looking. Tall. Attractive but athletic build. Boobs were kinda lacking."

"Erm…ahem."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Was there was anything else about her?"

"Oh. Yeah. Her hair was green. I remember because as she was leading me down the halls, she made a comment about it. Then she gave me the weirdest look. A smile. Like she was in on a joke that I was the butt of."

"What do you remember about the hallways?"

"Not much. I was too busy staring at the woman. I just remember I was walking down those halls for like…ever. Eventually, she pushed open the doors to a room that looked like a doctor's office. She told me that they knew I was hurt. They knew I needed medical attention. And since I still felt kinda wonky, I believed her."

"Wonky?"

"You know." Lorna made a weird hand gesture. "Wonky."

"Ah. I see."

"So she told me to go and sit on the little bed thingy. And I did. Then a man told her that she could go. 'Thank you, Vertigo,' he said. 'You are dismissed.' So she walked out the room and I looked at the person who was talking to her. It was a man."

"What did he look like?"

"Pale. Very…freaky looking in general."

"That's him! That's the freak I worked wit' before! He was pale and freaky lookin'."

"Remy, shut up!"

"Mr. LeBeau, please."

"Oh. _Desole_."

"You were saying, Lorna?"

"Well, he _was_ freaky looking. And pale. Unnaturally so. Even paler than you, Rogue."

"Gee thanks."

"Oh. Sorry. Uh…oh. Right. His hair was midnight black and kinda long. His eyes were glowing red. That's when I started to get worried. Because the second I saw him, I knew something was up. He had an…air about him. It didn't sit right with me.

"He smiled at me and said hello. I didn't say anything. I was really scared. I know I should have done…something. Fought him back or something but I was starting to get really scared and I didn't feel like I could move or run. I was shaking really bad as he got closer and closer. I don't know. I should have done something."

"It's okay, Lorna. Just tell us what happened."

"He started running tests. Really basic ones. Checked my reflexes. My pulse. I didn't let him get my blood pressure but you get the point. As he did this, he introduced himself. He said his name was Nathaniel Essex. He told me he was a doctor. I asked what kind of doctor."

"He said he was geneticist, didn' he? He said that he studies the make-up of humans. But the mutant genome fascinates him in particular, right? He said that, didn' he?"

"…he did. That's exactly what he said. Then he asked me what my mutant powers were."

"Did you answer?"

"Of course not. But he knew. Somehow. He just knew. When I didn't answer, he smiled some more. He said that even if I didn't answer, he knew. 'Magnetic manipulation,' he said. 'But that's only scratching the surface.' He said he knew that I could do so much more. I didn't have a bloody clue what the hell he was talking about. I said as much. Then he smiled again. He said that he had a feeling I would say as much but he was ready. Then he pulled out the biggest needle I have ever seen in my whole life. I tried to get away. I don't know how he managed to stop me. I barely remember it. All I remember, before I passed out, was him saying 'My name is Nathaniel Essex, but you can call me Mr. Sinister.'"

"What happened after you woke up, Lorna?"

"I was strapped up like I had been admitted to a hospital. I felt really sore. Like, really sore. I hurt so badly I felt like I could throw up. He was sitting there watching me. I said some really mean things and asked why I felt so bad. 'It was just the beginning of many tests, Lorna. You have so much potential and I have every intention of unlocking it all.'

"From that day on he would perform experiments on me. I tried to keep track of the time between experiments but they seemed so random. Sometimes, they felt like they were hours apart. Other times, they were days apart. Or at least, it felt like it. But the experiments always entailed him poking and prodding me…shocking me…injecting me…cutting me…testing me, my blood…. Everything. It was hell. It hurt worse than anything I could have ever imagined. He would give me stuff. I never knew what exactly. Then he and the woman, Vertigo, would take me into a room and make me test my powers. The experiments they did on me made me stronger. My powers were different and bigger and just…better."

"How would he make you?"

"Threats. Other times, physical violence. If I didn't practice he would…" Lorna cleared her throat. "Or she would…make me. Make me cooperate. Or make me protect myself."

"How did you escape?"

"My aunt used to watch shows about survival on _Lifetime_. I couldn't remember much. But I remembered a little. Gaining their trust. Not making any indications of having an escape plan. Trying to keep track of their routine. So that's what I did. I stopped fighting back. I cooperated. Eventually, they trusted me to not be a problem. After some time of this, I knew that they had gotten comfortable with me being all passive.

"After they made me practice my powers, Sinister would finish up the notes he took—"

"Did he take them in a diary?"

'Remy, shut up!"

"—and leave me with Vertigo. She would always put on this collar that stopped me from using my powers until they took it off. She had gotten used to me walking up to her and letting her put it on. That day, when I was close enough and I was positive Sinister was far enough away, I decided to attack her. Thanks to his experiments, I could do new stuff. With my powers, that is. One of those things was sending out what he called a magnetic pulse."

"What exactly is that?"

"I can…I don't know the technicalities of it but it's when I concentrate my magnetic energy into a blast. So I made a fist and punched Vertigo in the face and added a magnetic pulse to that punch, just to make sure it was strong enough."

"Was it?"

"Totally. I knocked that bitch out cold."

"Err…"

"Right. Sorry."

"What happened next?"

"I took her keys and got out that room and locked her inside, just to be safe. Then I was standing in a hallway. I had no clue where anything was. I ran around for a while, looking for an exit and hoping I didn't bump into Sinister."

"Did you see anyone else? Any other prisoners?"

"No. In all that time I was locked in there, I had no clue anyone else was there. I had no clue. If you hadn't told me, I would have never known."

"So how did you escape?"

"I kept running through the halls. Then I thought I heard footsteps. So I ran faster. I knew he was coming for me. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. I knew I had to get out then or never. Eventually, I saw a door. Through the cracks, there was light. It was my best chance. So I started slamming my shoulder into it over and over again, hoping to break it down."

"Is that where the bruise on your shoulder came from?"

"Yeah. It didn't work. Cause the door was made of metal. Then I was like' Oh yeah, duh.' So I just used my powers and pulled the damn thing off. And I ran. Eventually, I ran into Bobby at the bus stop."

"How many days after you escaped did you find Bobby?"

"Two."

"How far away was the lab from the bus stop?"

"I don't know. I didn't even know where I was until Bobby told me on the way home. But the lab can't be all that far from here because there's no way I could have covered that much ground in those two days."

Mick turned his gaze to the couple in the room. "And how do you know Mr. Essex, Remy?'

"Back when I was seventeen, he approached my family to do a heist. He asked for me specifically. Which was weird but whatever. He needed me to break into some super secret lab in Canada to get a diary of his back."

"Where in Canada?"

"Alberta, I think."

"What happened in Alberta?"

"I got to the lab and it was kinda easy to break into. Looked like everyone was busy wit' somethin' else. When I was lookin' for that stupid diary, I found a room wit' people in it. They were locked in pods and disfigured and in pain. It kinda freaked me out. My freak out got me caught. These guards stormed in but then somethin' in the lab broke out so they went to deal wit' dat. So I ran, grabbed the diary, and got the hell outta there.

"When I was far 'noug away, I opened the diary. It was full of notes and drawin's of mutants and experiments done on them. I thought of those people in pods and decided that this wasn' the kinda thing that needed to see the light of day. So I burned it. When I got home, Essex seemed okay wit' it. He was too busy starin' at a cut I got on my chest. Which he ended up treatin'."

"He treated you?"

"_Oui_. But he only cleaned up the cut and bandaged me up. Then he jus' left, sayin' we would work together in the future. Never heard from him again."

"How did he clean your wound, Remy?"

"Wit' a cloth."

"A cloth that soaked up all your blood?"

"Yeah…oh. Oh…"

XXXXX

Remy, Lorna, and Rogue were dismissed from the Professor's office so that he and Mick could speak in private. The three turned toward each other, unsure of what to say. Remy was the one who finally broke the silence.

"Lorna, I—"

"Shut up, Remy."

He pouted, his shoulders dropping in defeat. "You ain't still mad at me for usin' my empathic charm on you, are you?"

"Bite me."

Rogue snickered. "I think that's a yes."

Remy glared at her, then looked back at Lorna. "Lor, I had to do it. I needed to know what you were talkin' 'bout."

"So you Jedi mind tricked me?" she demanded, indignant.

"It wasn' a Jedi mind trick!"

"A glamour! Whatever! You can't just use your vampire magic on people whenever you feel like it."

"…vampire magic?"

"Don't try to change the subject." She crossed her arms in front of her and gave him a heated look. "You _made _me talk about what happened when I wasn't ready to. Not cool, Remy. You don't just get to barge in there and glamour me or Jedi me into talking about my secrets. Mind your own god damn business."

"I was tryin' to!" he hollered, desperate. Rogue looked at his face and he looked absolutely helpless. She felt for him. She really did. "For once in my whole life, I was tryin' to mind my own business and I _still _get pulled in. I didn' mean to, Lor. I swear. But when you said his name, I needed to know. I wasn' tryin' to invade your personal life. Or…I guess I was. But for the right reasons."

"Whatever."

"And now we got Mick on the case and he'll be able to help us."

"And you believe him, Remy?"

Remy and Rogue turned to each other, baffled by her question. In unison, they both asked a very elegant "Huh?"

"You really think that bringing the feds into this is gonna make it better?" She huffed, blowing her green hair out of her face. "Don't be stupid. I know you aren't. And I know that you know what I know. We all know you know."

"…huh?"

"Don't play dumb."

"I'm not playin' dumb."

"Right. And I'm Magneto's long lost daughter." Lorna marched right up to Remy LeBeau and stared at him with jade eyes that, in that moment, could have given Rogue a run for her money in ferocity. In those eyes, Remy saw the survivor who escaped Sinister's labs.

"Look. You know that eventually, he's gonna come for me. And when he does, he's gonna bump into you, too. He's gonna find us both. He's gonna come for us both. And chances are, he's gonna get us both. We can pretend that the X-Men or agent Kauffman will make things okay but you and I met Essex before. We both know that he wants to experiment on us like lab rats and he'll go to great lengths to do it. He's gonna come. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But he'll be here. And you digging around in my mind won't change a damn thing. So stay the fuck out. "

With that, Lorna spun on her heel and stomped out of the room. Rogue watched her go with wide eyes. In the weeks she had spent with Lorna, she had never seen that side of her.

She kind of liked it, even if she was bitching out her boyfriend.

Speaking of said boyfriend, Rogue had quite a few things she needed to say to Remy LeBeau. Mostly to do with the gift of long black gloves he had presented her only hours earlier. Rogue turned to Remy to address the glove issue…

…only to find that he was trailing out of the room, behind Lorna.

"Of course," Rogue drawled, rolling her eyes. "I've been avoidin' the boy like the plague and the one time I actually wanna talk to him, _he _runs from _me_. Dandy. Frickin' dany."

**XXXXX**

** NEXT CHAPTER: Lorna and Remy worry, Rogue contemplates, and I reveal why MARVEL comics and I are no longer on speaking terms. **


	13. The Food Fight

**I promise I have a real reason I haven't updated in so long! I graduated and then got knocked unconscious. **

** Yup. Knocked out. Had to rush outside at work in the rain and fell. Bad news? I'm more sore than words can accurately convey. Good news? Hot guy carried me inside, took care of me, and even missed a day's worth of work to drive me to the emergency room. Take note ladies: falling on your ass is **_**sexy. **_

__**I'm kidding. Don't do that. It sucks. It really, majorly sucks.**

** Anyway, I'm back. I'll try to stay conscious for you all. Finally, I must reveal why MARVEL and I are no long on speaking terms. I put up with them with the whole "leaving Gambit to die in Antarctica" thing. I put up with the "Gambit may or may not have had sex with Mystique" thing. I put up with "Gambit is a horseman for Apocalypse" thing. I put up with Rogue going into as super coma, waking up, and saying she needed time to herself. I put up with Rogue gaining control of her powers and STILL needing time for herself. But the other day, I went to my local comic shop and opened up the latest issue to see that MARVEL has gone too far. How, you may ask? **

** Magneto and Rogue.**

** Yup. They're doing **_**that **_**again. And not just implying it. I'm talking about a full on kiss with a major implication of more happening between ROGUE AND MAGNETO. Which is just…**

** I'm sorry, MARVEL. But I think we need to take a break. **

** Okay. Well. New chapter. Enjoy.**

**XXXXX**

Lorna Dane idly twirled the cap to her bottle of water on the table, eyes unseeing. She was lost in her own world, despite the fact that every single resident of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters was stuffed into one room. Which meant that one room was quite loud. But dinner at the Institute was always very loud. Before, Lorna had enjoyed it thoroughly. Now, she just wished everyone would shut the hell up.

She was torn between being angry and terrified. Angry because Sinister or Essex or whatever he was calling himself had thoroughly fucked up her life and now she couldn't even use her powers without flipping out and having a horrible nightmare. At least, that's what she thought what prompted her particularly painful nightmare.

Well, as it just so happened, Lorna happened to like using her powers. She happened to like them a lot. She shouldn't be afraid to use them because some freak had messed with her head.

Continuing to spin her bottle cap, Lorna looked down at her knife. With just a twitch of her eyebrow, the utensil wiggled. Lorna decided she wanted to do more than just twitch an eyebrow. So she continued to look at the knife and she continued to concentrate. With minimal effort, it was floating. She twisted and turned it in the air without lifting a delicate hand. Then, when she narrowed her eyes, she plunged it point first into the table where it remained stuck.

Yeah. Lorna Dane was pissed.

She sighed, looking around her. Not surprisingly, no one noticed her display. All the adults were too busy trying to stop a food fight before it could begin through a series of strenuous negotiations. Frowning, she yanked the knife from the table and set it down where it properly belonged. She looked back at her water bottle top.

She continued to let it spin as she thought about her other emotion: fear. The fear that was at war with her anger as to which one would rule her. Since Remy pried out of her what happened and she came to realize that Essex had not one but two people of interest under one roof, there was no way Lorna was leaving the house. And if she did, it was with a brown wig. She hadn't worn a wig since her hair first started turning when her powers first started manifesting.

Honestly, she wouldn't begin to feel safe unless she had her wig and Wolverine as a body guard with her wherever she went.

Except the bathroom. He could wait outside.

But Essex or Sinister or whatever…he was scary. Not the typical kind of scary either. Chilling. The kind of chill Lorna felt in her bones. And now, even when she was away, he was there. In her mind. In her dreams. Making her a coward. Making going to school something she just couldn't do anymore.

She wanted to brave. She truly, honestly did. But she wasn't even able to tell anyone what happened until Remy pushed it out of her. How could she be expected to….

To what?

She didn't know what. Something epic. Something that would redeem herself. Something that would convey to Sinister her "kiss my ass" message. How? She didn't know.

But it would probably include growing a pair of metaphorical balls. How that would help her, she wasn't very sure. But it seemed to be the thing all cowards—male and female alike—needed to acquire before achieving their John McLane "yippe-ki-ya" moment.

Lorna continued to spin her bottle cap, miserable.

"What is that? Your totem?"

She looked up. Bobby stood over her, smiling uncomfortably. She grabbed her top and stopped it mid spin. "What?" she snapped.

"Um…it was spinning. _Inception _joke…know what? Nevermind."

"What do you want, Bobby?"

He took the vacant seat next to her. As much as Lorna liked him—and she honestly did like Bobby—she had no patience for him on this particular night. She hoped that whatever he wanted, she could easily dismiss it.

"Lor," he said, dragging in a deep breath. He reached out and grabbed her hand. "I would like to talk about us."

Well, so much for "easily dismissed."

XXXXX

The more Remy thought about it, it made sense.

It was kind of hard to think though. Rogue was being really distracting tonight. Throughout dinner, she kept brushing her foot against his, peeking up at him through her lashes from where she sat across from him. Couldn't she tell she had a lot on her mind? Why did she keep doing that?

Anyway, it made sense. What Lorna said earlier that day. About Essex coming for them both. It probably was only a matter of time. What Remy couldn't understand was why, after all this time, did Essex wait to take him? He met Remy _years_ ago. He could have taken him then. Why now? Why wait?

He liked to believe he was lucky enough to have slipped off the radar or be forgotten. But Remy knew he had no such luck. It never worked out like that in the real world.

Things didn't make sense. But they would in a matter of time. How he would come to understand would most likely not be a pleasant experience either. Downright painful, if what Lorna said was true.

A spoonful of mashed potatoes sailing over his head brought him out of his thought induced trance. Remy looked up long enough to see that the food fight negotiations had failed and it appeared as if a war had broken out. Which was fine. As long as they didn't get anything in his hair, he could care less. Across from him, Rogue cleared her throat. Loudly.

He saw that she had pulled out a bottle of chocolate syrup and was pouring some into an obscenely tall glass of milk. The whole time, she was making eye contact with him. Beneath the table, she rubbed his ankle again. She wasn't even paying attention to what she was doing with that chocolate syrup.

"Roguey, pay attention," he chided. "You gonna get chocolate syrup all over the table. Also: why do you keep rubbin' your foot all up on me?"

Her jaw dropped.

Silly girl.

Anyway: Essex. Very important issue. Remy looked over to Lorna, who appeared to be having a very serious conversation with Bobby. He saw her earlier, when she had plunged her knife into the table. Clearly, she had a lot of things going on in her head too. And she was most likely still quite perturbed with him.

He needed to talk to her but he didn't want to be at the receiving end of her knife.

Whether she liked it or not, they were going to be in this together. Because when the shit hit the fan, they would have to have each other's back. The Professor and Mick assured them all would be fine. That was nice and all but it wouldn't.

When it came to Essex, he and Lorna needed each other.

Speaking of needs…Remy looked over at Rogue. She was acting so peculiar all dinner. Even now, she had downed a significant amount of her chocolate milk. Noticing him notice her, she set the glass down and went to work on liking her upper lip dry. Slowly. While giving him a funny look.

Poor thing. Clearly, she needed more sleep. Understandable. She had a rough night last and a very long day. Which was a shame because he really wanted to speak to her about their relationship. More importantly, his gift to her. There was so much to be said. So much making out to be done. But it would have to wait. Wait until he sorted some things out with Lorna. And for Rogue to get some sleep.

Clearly, the poor girl needed it. Just look at her. The sleeve to her shirt had tumbled down her arm, leaving a significant amount of her shoulder exposed and she didn't even seem to notice.

She was so adorable.

Remy stood, noting how Rogue's eyes lit up. Somewhere, across the room, a plate crashed. Moments later, jello zoomed past him, followed by a very pitchy shriek from Emma.

Nothing was in his hair so it was all good.

Walking around to Rogue's side of the table, he bent down so he could speak to her. She batted her tired eyes at him.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice husky. Oh yeah. She even sounded funny. She _totally_ needed a nap.

"I gotta talk to Lorna. I'll be right back, love." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling the sleeve of her shirt up in the process. "Be back in a bit."

XXXXX

So apparently the man who constantly had sex on the brain couldn't tell when a woman—namely his _girlfriend_—was coming on to him.

Rogue pouted over the remains of her chocolate milk as she watched Remy go. She tried to understand. Really, she did. He was going through a lot. He needed to say a lot to Lorna, who was probably still mad enough to murder him with a dull spoon. But whatever. It was his life he was putting on the line messing with her. Rogue would just sit back here. And watch.

Alone.

Perfectly alone with her chocolate syrup.

Dammit.

All she wanted to do was talk to him. She had been trying to since things semi-slowed down with Lorna earlier in the day. But every attempt she made was interrupted. As usual. And when they managed to snag a second or two alone, he was too distracted to pay her much attention.

So she decided to try the bit with chocolate syrup. Surely, the sexed up Remy LeBeau couldn't be so distracted that he would miss a blatant come on.

Apparently so.

At this point Rogue felt like she could literally take off her shirt and he wouldn't bat an eyelash. Actually, no one would probably notice. They were all too busy pissing Logan off with their food fight. Which didn't do a whole lot for her self-esteem.

Great. Rogue could parade around in her bra and not even her boyfriend would take notice.

All she wanted to do was get his attention. And yeah, okay. Maybe she did the bit with her shirt and chocolate syrup because she and Remy hadn't had as much…alone time since Lorna moved in and she started avoiding him. But she could totally kill two birds with one stone.

She would have attention, to say the least.

No such luck though. It was ironic, actually. She had been giving him the cold shoulder for weeks now. Now when she wanted to talk to him, he didn't have time for her. That was ironic, right? She was pretty sure but maybe she was thinking of something else. Whatever. It didn't matter.

She wanted to talk about them. And the gloves. The two went hand in hand. Things needed to be said. She was still afraid. Still frightened of how bad he might have it for her. How much they had one the line. But after his gift, she at least wanted to talk to him about it. Maybe they could come up with a solution together. That is, they could come up with a solution together after he finished being mad about her closing herself off for so much time.

Cause Remy was going to be really, really mad.

Rogue chugged her chocolate milk, thinking about how much everything sucked lately.

XXXXX

Okay.

He did. He finally did it. He had been thinking about doing it for a very long time now. He had rehearsed what he would say in the mirror for the past few hours. And yeah, okay. Maybe he forgot what he was going to say the second he saw her. And maybe the setting could have been a little more romantic, what with a food fight taking place currently. There's was nothing about a jello covered Emma Frost shrieking and throwing a bowl of mashed potatoes at Kitty's head. Actually…it was kind of hot.

But that wasn't important.

What was important was that Bobby would have liked a more romantic setting. Or a slightly less food covered setting. But Lorna had been missing all day. Missing with Remy. Maybe he was being paranoid but Bobby felt like he needed to act quickly. Just in case. And since dinner time was the only time he was able to see her all day, then Bobby took the opportunity while he had it.

Only, it appeared as if Lorna was in a very foul mood. What prompted this, he didn't know. He half considered, the second she looked at him with vibrant and angry eyes, turning around and hiding under a table until it was safe. But no. Now was the time.

So he sat down. He took her hand. He looked her in the eye. Her expression softened. She seemed less angry and a little more touched. It was all the encouragement he needed. In a rush, he told her exactly how he felt.

"I think you're amazing. I know I don't know you all that well and that you've got a lot going on in your life, but I think about you a lot." He then quickly added, "But not too much 'cause that'd be creepy, ya know?"

And Lorna smiled.

"But I do think about you a lot. In a non-stalker way. I think about you because I do like you. A lot. I wanna be your friend. You need a friend. But I also want more than that. I don't know. Does that make sense?"

Lorna nodded but still said nothing.

"I know you don't want anyone taking care of you. You're strong and can take care of yourself. I never ever doubted that. But even though you don't need me, I would really like to fill in that vacant position as the person who is supposed to take care of you. Even if I'm not actually allowed to do anything, I wanna be there for you, Lor."

He squeezed her fingers. In the background, Kitty called Emma a very rude name and threw and entire stick of butter at the blonde.

"I wanna be more, Lorna."

And she smiled. Like. Really, really smiled. And the agitation in her eyes just seemed to melt away. And who cares if chaos was erupting around them because maybe things with Lorna would work out. Maybe…maybe she would let him kiss her.

Maybe Bobby Drake had finally found a streak of luck.

"Hey. Ice-Face. I need to talk to Lorna. Get outta here."

Or maybe not.

Bobby turned around, finding a no-nonsense looking Remy standing behind him. His roommate looked very grim and very serious. So what if Remy was bigger…and stronger…and crazier…and a (reformed?) criminal...who could probably blow him up by tapping him on the nose…who had an equally crazy, scary girlfriend…

Err…

No. Bobby would hold his ground. No one, not even Remy LeBeau would be able to pull him from Lorna's side. Not in this moment.

"No," Bobby said defiantly, lifting his chin.

Both of Remy's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Heh. Surprise is good. Outright anger would be a bad sign. Maybe he _could _do this.

"Bobby…" Lorna whispered, "It's actually kinda important. Can we, I don't know, talk later. A rain check? I'm so sorry."

Was it just Bobby or was Remy picking up some of Logan's moment interrupting habits?

XXXXX

"You're timing is shit."

Remy clicked his tongue at Lorna. "_Cherie_, your language has become deplorable lately."

"Right. And you're Mr. Role Model with your language." She scoffed. "Just 'cause I don't speak French doesn't mean I can't identify a swear word when I hear it."

Remy smiled.

"What do you want? I mean, besides to criticize my 'deplorable' language? Maybe you wanna dig up a few more secrets out my brain. My darkest fears? When I'll be on my cycle again?"

Remy grimaced. "The last one was a little too far…."

"What do you want, Remy?"

"I know that you're mad—"

"Furious."

"—but I want you to know that when things get ugly 'round here—cause they are gonna get real ugly soon 'nough—no matter how bad things get, I got your back. Whether you want me there or not. You don' havta like me. You don' have to be my friend. But I met this man and I see what sorta affect he has on you. Combine that wit' my past experience and the fact he's got my blood in his back pocket, you can guarantee that I got a few choice words for the bastard. But he ain't gonna hurt you anymore. I got your back."

"…and I got yours."

"Good."

"Good."

Behind them, Logan howled in anger, effectively ending the food fight. And just for a second, the chaos had settled and order was restored.

But whether it was in the form of a sinister doctor or flying mashed potatoes, the peace never lasted long.

But at least Remy's hair came out untouched.

**XXXXX**

** NEXT CHAPTER: the inevitable finally happens….**


	14. The Inevitable

Lorna sat in her empty room. Lying on her back. Looking at the ceiling. Thinking.

Almost a week had passed since everything happened. Everything being her confession to Mick via Remy. It also was almost a week since Bobby had asked her out. She never had a chance to answer him that night because almost as soon as she and Remy finished their conversation, Logan all but popped out all six claws and demanded everyone clean up the mess made during the food fight. Which wasn't fair because she had no part in it.

But whatever. At least it gave her time to think.

Eventually though, Bobby did come back looking all hopeful in search of an answer. What was she supposed to say? Yes, knowing that it was only a matter of time before her life got ugly again? And even though he wanted to fill in the position of her protector, there was no way she would ever bring Bobby into this situation. Never. It was way too dangerous. So she told him no.

Okay. Not no, exactly.

She said not right now. While she didn't go into specifics as to why, she did explain that things were getting really crazy. She didn't have time for a relationship of any sorts. If she said yes, it wouldn't be fair to either one of them.

Not now.

He seemed to take the news…well enough. But he was quite clearly filled with disappointment. Saddened by his pseudo no. Since then, despite their best efforts, things between them had become awkward.

Which really sucked.

Now Lorna was rather alone, waiting for it all to happen. The rest of her classmates had gone off to school. That only left her, a handful of older X-Men, and the adults. For once, the mansion was rather silent. Even her roommate had up and disappeared.

So Lorna remained on her bed. And waited.

XXXXX

Washboard abs, washboard abs, washboard abs.

Washboard abs.

So much for watching _Shutter Island_. Not like they had really intended on watching it in the first place. But it was a very nice excuse. All it took was one well-placed kiss to the neck and bam!

Leonardo DiCaprio was forgotten.

Which was fine. Because Rogue wasn't paying that much attention to the plot. She was too busy trying to figure out if Leo had gotten fat since his _Titanic _days or was that just his face now. She still wasn't sure but now _washboard abs_ so it didn't really matter.

Remy pressed her deeper into the mattress, which made kissing better but washboard abs access became a bit more difficult. Her legs ached to wrap around him but she managed to stop herself for the moment. But she did dig fingers into his back as he went to give a little affection to her neck and shoulder and collarbone area. His hands were on her hips, pulling her tight against him.

Pssh. He was such a friggin' control freak.

Not that she minded. Especially in this one particular setting. He could be as controlling as he wanted. As long it didn't involve anything like safety words and name calling and injuries and handcuffs.

Meh.

Maybe handcuffs. But none of the other stuff.

Besides, as controlling as he was, she was always able to turn the tables with absolutely no compliant from him. He even encouraged it from time to time. But today, Rogue was fine with his possessive hands on her hips, bringing her closer and closer to him. She loved being close to Remy. He was always so warm. So inviting. On more than one occasion, she wished that she could just melt into him. Never go. Never have to leave him.

Which probably wasn't a good thing in regards to how badly she loved him.

But right now she couldn't find herself caring about how serious she was about him. Because he was kissing her all over and making the world fade. Make her body act funny. Bruising her mouth with his heated kisses. Nipping gently at her skin and kissing the sting away.

One of his hands snaked his way up the length of her torso, taking a brief detour to further explore the curve of her hip he seemed so fascinated with. But eventually he went up and up and up and up. Up to her arm. He pushed it, just one, over her head. She expected him to do another one of his dominating, possessive moves and pin her arm over her head.

Only he didn't.

He twined his fingers with hers and held her hand. Tight.

Even as Rogue arched under him in response to a kiss placed on a particularly sensitive area, she felt the sting of stupid tears in her eyes. God. She was such a baby. She used to be the scariest X-Man, second only to Logan. Now she was crying because her boyfriend was holding her hand.

But….

She didn't know what but was. She knew that she should be worried about how strongly she felt for Remy LeBeau. She knew this was a problem. She wanted to care. She needed to care about this problem. But she didn't.

Which was so bad. Like, _so _bad.

Maybe it was just his kiss and his touch playing with her head at the moment, but Rogue didn't care. She didn't. She just wanted to…to melt.

Only then did she realize that Remy was speaking to her.

"Huh?"

"I said," he whispered in a raw voice, "didn' you wanna talk about somethin'?"

"Uh…." She did want to talk to him about something. She couldn't remember what. Was it…washboard abs? No. That couldn't have been it. *Was it knee high socks? Maybe thigh high boots?* No. No.

Long black gloves.

That's right. She wanted to talk to him about the long black gloves. About them. Remy and Rogue. The couple. The us. That's right.

"Yeah…." she whispered, sliding her free hand into his hair. She thought she heard him growl when she did that.

"What was it 'bout?"

Did he really want to talk about this now? Right now?

And he used to criticize _her_ timing. But before she answered, Rogue thought she heard something. In the distance. At the main entrance to the mansion. Could have just been Logan or something.

But the way the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, something told her it wasn't that easy.

"Do you hear that Remy?"

He kissed her mouth, taking a long, languid drag. "Mmm…_oui_, I do." He snuggled closer to her. "Do you feel that?"

"Oh, gosh! Remy! Stop bei' gross. I'm serious."

He grinned and stole another kiss. "So is Remy."

"Shhh."

He did, burying his face into the crock of her neck. Rogue continued to listen. There was some thumping around and maybe she heard voices. Still nothing to really call need for her attention.

But she was seriously starting to freak out. And then….

And then the alarms sounded and it pulled them both out their lust induced haze.

XXXXX

She knew it, she knew it, she knew it, she knew it, she knew it, she knew it.

She knew it.

It was time. Now. It was always inevitable.

She was afraid but her feet were taking her out of her room. Racing down the halls. She heard the Professor's voice yell in the distance but couldn't make out just what he was saying. She ran past Emma and Betsy, who stuck their heads out their shared bedroom. She ran and ran until she reached the stairs.

Vertigo was there. Along with three others she had never seen before. But she couldn't make her eyes focus on Vertigo and the men. Her eyes were immediately drawn the man making his way through the destroyed front entrance. He surveyed the foyer briefly. Then they landed directly on Lorna.

And he smiled.

"Hello, Miss Dane," he said pleasantly. "So nice to see you again."

Her mouth dried up. She couldn't find words or actions or…anything. But she turned her head at the sound of footsteps appearing behind her. The few X-Men that were home were gathering behind her. This included Remy LeBeau.

Sinister's eyebrow rose.

"I thought I might find you here, Mr. LeBeau. Long time, no see."

XXXXX

Remy's heart was pounding wildly in his chest. His ribs were probably cracking with each beat. He hadn't expected to be this scared when he faced the man again. Maybe it was his shady past catching up with him that was freaking him out.

Or maybe it was the makeover Essex had given himself.

The last time Remy had seen him, he looked like a man. A very pale, creepy man. But a man, not very different from another.

Not anymore.

Now his eyes glowed red, with no visible signs of pupils. He had to have grown several inches since the last time Remy saw him. Because now he was a towering, huge, muscular figure. There was a scarlet diamond in the middle of his forehead that may or may not have been for decorative purposes.

And he had a goatee. Which _definitely_ marked him as a bad guy.

This was not the doctor Remy remembered as a seventeen year old.

That didn't matter.

"Get out the way, _Cherie!_" he hollered, not so gently pushing Lorna aside. As he did so, One-Eye elbowed his way to the front of the group and pulled off his sunglasses. He released what had to have been the strongest optic blast Remy had ever seen the team leader unleash. It hit the intended target, Essex, perfectly.

There was dust from where part of the mansion was hit. Everyone waited with baited breath as the dust cleared. Everything was still.

"Oh my god," whispered Emma when she could finally see.

One-Eye had taken out a huge chunk of Essex's right side, leaving a gaping hole where his_ body _should have been.

"_Mon Dieu_," Remy repeated, shocked. And yet, Sinister remained standing. Smiling. The X-Men watched as the hole in his body grew smaller. And smaller still. No one uttered a sound as the wound closed up completely, leaving Essex whole once more.

"You'll have to do better than that, my dear."

And then all hell broke loose.

XXXXX

Lorna did not need to be told twice. Not only did she get out the way, she got the hell out of the way and then some. In fact, she was just going to let the more experienced X-Men handle this one.

She thought the odds were in her favor. Scott, Emma, Betsy, Remy, Rogue, the Professor, Ororo, and Logan were all home. The others were at school or doing something or another with their free time.

Eight to five. Good odds.

Kind of.

But then Lorna saw why Sinister choose his particular group. They weren't lightweights. Like the big one. He was just…big. And strong. And not one to be stopped without a lot of effort. Effort, which the X-Men were putting in but to no apparent avail.

And Vertigo. It appeared as if her and diamond-Emma were duking it out. In her diamond form, Vertigo's dizzy powers didn't seem to work on her. But that meant any telepathic advantage she could have had over the villainous was lost.

Betsy was fighting the man with black skin and purple hair. Which was actually kind of funny, since she had purple hair too. Only hers was much prettier than his. But anyway, they were fighting. She was using her mental samurai sword, swinging it at him with frightening precision. But he would morph and dodge and disappear altogether. Rogue ran over, attempting to be of some aid.

The hairy brown one Sinister brought with him was a problem too. Ducking and dodging every attack thrown his way and then attempted to slice open her teammates with his freakishly long claws. It was just sad that Hank wasn't here. They would have had a good time, being all hairy and claw-y at each other.

Oh. Ouch.

Well, even if Hank wasn't here, Logan seemed to have a fine time taking care of hairy. He charged Sinister's lackey or whatever he was and sent them both falling to the ground, where they rolled and clawed at each other. Lorna screamed when the hairy one clawed Logan right across the face.

Not like it stopped Logan or anything. In fact, it looked like all it did was only piss him off further.

Okay. That was one fight she didn't want to watch.

Scott was busy trying to deter Sinister himself with a series of powerful optic blasts, most of which Sinister deflected. And when he didn't, any gaping wound left healed in a way that would make Logan jealous. Remy was helping the others with the huge guy, but whenever he could spare a glance, he was watching Sinister carefully.

A mournful scream had Lorna looking back to Emma and Vertigo. For a moment, she was afraid perhaps the telepath was injured. But it appeared as if it was the opposite. She stood over Vertigo, who while conscious, was rolling around in the ground it what had to have been immense pain. Emma watched her with only mild interest, seeming fascinated with a spot of blood that stained her white blouse. She scoffed, returned to her normal state, and ran to the opposite side of the room with Scott.

"_Merde_!"

Lorna looked. Remy was lying flat on his back, eyes squeezed shut in pain.

Not a good sign.

The big guy towered over him, smirking wickedly. Lorna watched with terror as the huge man threw his body forward, preparing to crush Remy beneath his massive weight, effectively creating squished Cajun.

Thank god for Ororo.

In what had to have been a powerfully annoying swirl of wind, she stopped the giant from making Remy a stain on the very nice floor. Never being one to not take advantage of a situation, he pulled out a handful of cards and threw them directly into his attacker's chest, sending him flying backward.

"Rogue!" he hollered. "Betsy!"

How they knew, just by Remy calling their names, to duck out the way, Lorna had no clue. Either way, she was totally impressed. Because they ducked without looking in time to miss the hulking man flying their way. But the purple haired dude they were fighting didn't have such luck. He was knocked over by his fellow lackey-henchman-dude.

Sinister surveyed the scene before him, his eyebrows puckered. Not too far away, Emma stood up straight. Then her mouth fell open.

"He's a telepath!" she yelled. "He's telling his team to keep us distracted so that—oooff!"

Lorna didn't see who knocked Emma over. Because Sinister looked over and found her cowering in the corner. And he smiled.

Keep the X-Men busy so that he could come for her.

Crap.

XXXXX

Even though Emma did not get the opportunity to finish speaking, her message was clear. Essex was going for Lorna. He wouldn't be leaving until he got her.

Remy would make sure that wouldn't happen.

Lorna darted out of the foyer and into the kitchen. Essex was hot on her heels. Even as he rushed, the little smirk never left his face.

Lorna ran. Essex lifted an arm and from the palm of his hand appeared what looked like a ball of energy. Or maybe plasma. He wasn't sure. It didn't matter. Either way, he shot the thing out. Not directly at Lorna. But at the ground in front of her. She had not a chance to dodge it. She was running too fast. It happened too quickly.

The ground in front of her caved. She ran right over the hole and dropped though it, letting out a startled scream. One second she was there. The next gone. Essex picked up speed. So did Remy. The X-Man managed to get a glance into the hole, which led all the way down to the floor below. Lorna was hovering a few feet above the ground.

Apparently she could fly too. Remy wished he had known that earlier.

But he saw her briefly. Because then Essex came barreling through. He jumped into the whole, grabbing Lorna by the arm in the process. Another scream. Essex said something to her, something Remy couldn't quite hear. It didn't matter.

He wasn't taking her.

He jumped into the hole behind them, sparing one glance over his shoulder. Rogue was staring at him, her eyes as round as saucers. She was afraid. She wanted to say something. Wanted to stop him maybe.

No time.

The big guy who attempted to squash him earlier ran at her. With ease, she dodged his attack. But her attention had to be focused on him. No time for Remy.

He wished he could say he was sorry for what he was about to do.

When he came upon Essex, he had Lorna pinned to the ground, a wicked looking needle in hand. The girl was screaming, squirming, and struggling against his attack but too terrified to use her powers. Tears poured from her eyes and down her cheeks like a dam behind her eyes burst open. Remy could never recall a time he had ever seen such frenzied fear in another human being.

It made his decision that much easier.

He pulled out his bo-staff and swung with all his might. The sound of it making contact with Essex's skull was incredibly satisfying. It wouldn't be enough, but it was satisfying. The man stumbled back, off of Lorna. In Essex's confusion, Remy yanked Lorna to her feet and shoved her behind him. Where it was safer.

Essex touched his lip. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He examined his bloodied fingers with a startled look. He then lifted his glowing red eyes to Remy's determined ones.

"Leave her," the Cajun said simply. His heart was pounding. Chest heaving. Nostrils flared. "Take me."

Essex's eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

"You had the girl for a few weeks. You've had my blood in your back pocket for _years_. Don' tell me you haven' experimented on it," Remy challenged.

Essex said nothing but his lips curled into that smile.

"We all know that I'm jus' spillin' over wit' power. The kinda power you wanna get your hands on. Take me up on my offer, you got a willin' guenia pig." He jerked his head in Lorna's direction. "Wit' her, you gonna get a caged animal achin' to get out. It'll get out. But I tell you one thing now: you ain't gettin' us both."

His eyes started to burn. That meant they were glowing. That meant he was very mad.

Good.

Remy knew he certainly looked like a white devil in this moment. Glowing eyes. Wild hair. A threatening stance. He was ready to attack. Just give him a reason. Any reason.

"You take me up on my offer or you don' walk away from this room in one piece." He raised his bo-staff. "Even if both of us go down in the process."

Essex stared. Behind him, Lorna let out a breath. She pressed her hand to his back, a gentle touch that reminded Remy how much he was about to give up. Give up for this girl. Not even a girl he loved. He admired Lorna though. And he would die a gruesome death before he let anyone—and he truly meant anyone—be carted off to a fate they didn't deserve.

Lorna deserved so much more. It was not a hard decision. A sacrifice he would do for any one of his teammates. Even One-Eye.

God, Rogue was gonna be so pissed.

"_**REMY**_!"

Speak of the devil.

He could hear a fight raging on above them. The X-Men were still quite a distance away but Remy knew his Rogue was clawing her way to him as quickly as she could.

"Hurry, Essex," he called, his voice rising. "They're comin' and I ain't gonna be able to stop them. Hurry. Choose now."

Moving as if he had all the time in the world, Essex capped the needle he was still brandishing and tucked it into one of his pockets.

"I believe we have a deal, Mr. LeBeau."

"_Magnifique_."

Essex adopted a smug look. "It was always inevitable that you and I would work together again."

Remy chose to ignore him. Knowing his time was painfully limited, he turned his back at Essex to face Lorna. Though the tears were still in her eyes, she stared at him as if she was seeing the sky for the first time. She lifted a hand, as if to touch him. She said one word. Two syllables. But in those two syllables, he heard eternal gratitude. In the one word, he heard utter astonishment. It brought a bitter smile to his face.

"Remy…." she whispered.

He took hold of her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Tell Rogue I'm sorry and that I love her." He shrugged out of his trench coat. He carefully draped it over the younger girl's shoulders. "And give her this for me, _s'il vous plait_?"

He didn't wait for an answer. With one last lingering kiss to the hand and a lavish bow, Remy LeBeau left with Nathaniel Essex.

"_Au revoir_."

**XXXXX**

****remember that for later.**

**NEXT CHAPTER: Lorna and Rogue scheme while Remy suppresses screams. **


	15. The Deal

**Hey, everybody! I'm back with the chapter I'm sure you are very excited for. I just wanted to remind you all that you are so totally fabulous and your reviews are amazing and greatly appreciated and I am so very happy you are enjoying the story thus far.**

**annacat721: I really hope that MARVEL realizes, via angry fans, what a horrible this Rogue/Magneto thing is.**

**capricorn66: Mick will be back soon enough. **

**rainyday: you should remember the bit about knee high socks and thigh high boots.**

**BlueFox: why have you abandoned me once more?**

**And onward we go!**

**XXXXX**

Logan made his way down the hall slowly, in no rush whatsoever to get to his intended destination. With every step he took, the crashes and sounds of things breaking only grew louder and more violent.

It wasn't that he was afraid. He had been through hell in back in the most literal sense possible. If there was something the human body could go through, he had gone through it. He was one screwed up guy who, after all was said and done, wasn't afraid of much. But he was still healing from his brawl with the hairy guy with claws. He still wasn't feeling one hundred percent and was in no mood for what he was about to face.

At the end of the hall, the sound of something—probably something expensive—shattering against the wall echoed, followed by a string of curses that would make an old French sailor blush.

Not only was he still not all there following his fight, he knew what he was about to walk into was not going to be pretty. Anger was just masking all the other, more…emotional emotions happening in her right now. But eventually those would break through. And Logan was not necessarily known for being good with feelings.

So of course they send him in to deal with the hellcat.

"'She looks up to you' he says," Logan grumbled miserably, doing his irritated impersonation of Chuck. "'You are the only one who can possibly get through to her right now' he says. Bull shit. They just don't wanna deal with her when she's like this."

Something else broke. Logan winced.

"Not like I blame them."

Still. He and Rogue were rather close. And if anyone would be able to return some semblance of sanity to her, it would be him. And those annoying paternal feelings he apparently had buried deep down—_way_ down—were nagging at him. He wanted to make sure that she was okay.

Not that he would admit this out loud.

Eventually, he arrived at the vacant bedroom Rogue had been placed in so she could have her temper tantrum. Logan drew in a deep breath then pushed the door open.

Whoa.

The wooden desk in the corner of the room looked like it had been ripped in half. The rolling chair that came with it was in at least five different pieces. Around the room, shattered remains of bedroom furniture were scattered across the floor. Various holes had been punched into the walls. Larger holes indicated Rogue had taken her boots to the defenseless walls.

As Logan took a step into the room, plaster rained down on him from above. He looked up and saw a decent sized hole in the ceiling. He was half curious as to how it came to be but then decided it would be better if he remained ignorant of its origins.

The mattress had been flipped and pillows ripped apart, down feathers strewn in every direction. The window had been only cracked, which was at least something.

All in all, the room had been trashed.

Logan scanned through the disaster for the girl responsible. He found her huddled in a corner, grumbling angrily to herself. She wore the Cajun's duster over her wrinkled clothing, frantically searching his pockets for something.

"What are you lookin' for stripes?"

She glanced in his direction only briefly before resuming her search. "Cigarette."

"I thought Gumbo quit."

"He did." She finally pulled out the pack she was looking for. "For the most part. Sometimes he indulges when he's particularly stressed 'bout somethin'."

"Since when did you start smokin'?"

"Since now," she said matter-of-factly, placing the cancer stick into her mouth.

"Bad habit."

"You smoke," she pointed out, searching his pockets for something else.

"I heal. You won't."

She shrugged, then frowned. "I forgot. He doesn't own a lighter." Her shoulders dropped in defeat. "He just uses his powers."

Taking pity on her, Logan reached into his pocket and pulled out his lighter. Though her demeanor was still black, Rogue's eyes did light up just slightly. It made Logan feel marginally better. She wouldn't be okay anytime soon but he was glad that he was able to make things a little easier for her.

"This is your first and last one, understand?" he barked.

Rogue nodded eagerly. "Understood."

"Let's take it outside."

She stared at him oddly for a moment. Like she couldn't quite understand what he was saying to her. After a painfully pregnant pause, she turned to the balcony. It was snowing again. Softly. It probably wouldn't stick. She looked at the falling snow and back at him before shrugging. Pulling Gumbo's duster around her more tightly, she led the way outside. Logan followed.

Rogue leaned on the balcony, smoke from her cigarette swirling around her as she looked down below her. Logan said nothing. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he shouldn't force the conversation from her. She would say whatever needed to be said when she was ready to open her mouth and speak.

It didn't take too long.

"I hate snow," Rogue announced, blowing smoke out in the process.

Logan nodded understandingly. "Me too."

"It never snowed down south. I like warmth." Her expression grew a little sadder. She pulled the coat around her a little tighter, lifting the cigarette to her lips once more. "Why do you hate it?"

"Got trapped in it for a few weeks. Had to eat the skin off my arm to keep from starving to death. "

She turned to him, eyes wide. Was she _really_ surprised by anything he said anymore? He expected her to be more prepared for the weird shit that came out his mouth every day. So he just mimicked her and shrugged.

"Don't worry. It grew back."

She looked like she wanted to say something but just shook her head and went back to looking out into the distance, smoking, and disliking the snow.

"Did they find any trace of him on Cerebro?" she asked after awhile.

"No. But that might just because he hasn't used his powers yet. The second he does, someone will pick his signal. Chuck, Red, and Blondie are all takin' turns on Cerebro. We'll find him."

Rogue snorted. "Please. Essex thinks of him as a play thing and Remy loves an excuse to blow somethin' up. His powers are probably goin' haywire only somethin' is keepin' us blocked out."

"We've considered that possibility," Logan conceded with a grunt.

"What do you think?"

"I think Essex is probably thorough and he ain't gonna let us find the Cajun. Not after Lorna made a break for it."

She didn't say anything for awhile.

"Thanks for the honesty."

"Course, Stripes."

"Do you think he's okay?"

"You want honesty?"

"Yeah."

"I think Essex is givin' him hell. But Gumbo hasn't gotten this far in life without havin' a few tricks up his sleeve. And he ain't gonna be the most pleasant patient. I wouldn't be surprised if Essex gave him back after a couple of hours of listenin' to him run his trap."

When Rouge didn't even chuckle, Logan frowned. Damn, the kid had it bad.

In what he hoped was a not too sentimental but still fatherly/comforting gesture, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. It must have been the right thing to do because she leaned into his touch, letting him take on most of her weight. He could feel how very exhausted she was. But tension was still in every muscle. She was tired but ready to attack at any moment. He saw that in her eyes earlier; they had dark circles beneath them and were swirling with sadness. But he saw raw determination and fire in them.

God dammit. She loved that Cajun.

Not that he hadn't already known that. It was fairly obvious. He had come in and ruined enough of their moments to be aware how strongly they felt about each other. Or at least how they couldn't seem to keep it in their pants for more than few minutes at a time. But that soft center Rogue had that only a few people had seen—Logan being one of them—seemed to have grown stronger since Gumbo wormed his way into his heart. Gumbo was changing her. For the better.

And she had changed him too. Made a semi-decent man out of him. Logan knew that whatever the Cajun felt, it was sincere. No one was that good of an actor.

Even Remy LeBeau didn't have that good a poker face.

Logan was happy Rogue had found happiness and that the Cajun was a better person.

But he still didn't like it.

"Look, Stirpes: we're gonna find him. We ain't leavin' one of our own behind, even if he did give himself up."

"Idiot," she interrupted.

"He was tyin' to save Lorna."

"He's still an idiot."

Logan fought down the tiny smile that almost stole across his face. "We're gonna get him. I promise. And don't forget: even if he did give himself up, he's gonna wanna get back to you. "

Some of the worry faded from her eyes. "You really think so?"

"Yeah. Y'all got a connection. A link between you. He ain't gonna give that up."

She stared at him. Stared at him very oddly. He could almost see the gears in her head start to turn. But what he said that prompted this was beyond him. What the hell was she thinking?

"What the hell are you thinkin'?" he demanded, standing up straighter.

Rogue shook her head, as if to shake off the thoughts that she didn't want him to know about. Not a good sign.

"Nothin'," she answered too quickly, dropping the half-finished cigarette into the snow and stomping it out.

"Stripes…" he growled warningly.

"Oh, like it even matters. I ain't allowed to help find Remy. Y'all won't let me."

"You're too emotionally invested. You might do somethin' stupid."

Her mouth twitched but she said nothing. Definitely a bad sign.

"Stripes."

"What?"

"Rogue."

"What."

"What are you thinkin'?"

"What does it matter? It's not like we can find him or anythin'."

XXXXX

"Aren' you s'posed to be runnin' cruel, unusual, and painful tests on me? 'Cause right now, it jus' seems like you wanted to see me all sweaty wit' my shirt off. Not that Remy blames you or anythin'. I do have a very nice torso; broad shoulders, solid chest, and washboard abs. Still. I hope there's a reason for all this."

"Of course there is, Mr. LeBeau," Essex answered, glancing down at the clipboard he had been carrying with him. "I wanted to test what kind of physical condition you were in. I need to know these things before we start any of those painful tests you mentioned."

Remy nodded from where he sat panting on the floor. "Ah. I see. So when do the painful tests start?"

"Soon." He looked up from his clipboard and down at Remy. "Though I am positive you are already very much aware of you physical condition, I am still quite pleased to inform you that you are in an extraordinary state that could only be acquired through years of strenuous work outs."

"Constant evasion of the law does a body good."

"I can see that."

"So you made Remy exercise his well-toned tushy off jus' so you can be positive 'bout the fact he got the bod and health of a Greek god? That seems a bit silly if you ask him."

Essex made a face. "Quite the contrary. Those tests were very necessary. Not only did we conclusively establish that you indeed have a 'the body of a Greek god,' but now I am aware of what your limits are physically. How much a strain your body can take before it starts to give up. Slow down. I know where your body draws the line." He grinned a little. "Now, I can push those limits. I can cross those lines."

Remy remained where he was seated, trying to continue to look unaffected by Essex. But the physical fitness tests he had put him through, which included fighting one of his henchmen, had taken a lot out of Remy. He would very much like to pass out and take a nice long nap. But he couldn't.

He had a job to do.

He needed to somehow find a way to contact the X-Men and, at the same time, free the other mutants Essex had hidden somewhere in…in wherever he was being held. After they left the mansion, Essex had injected him with something which put Remy to sleep faster than he could say "Wolverine in a pink tutu."

Why anyone would want to say that was beyond him but whatever.

When he woke up again, he was in this "exercise" room, shirtless. Essex stood behind some glass, observing him with quiet interest.

Then he brought on the hell.

By the time he was done with his exercises, Remy was aching from head to toe. He hoped that by sitting, he looked blasé and bored and unafraid. In actuality, he did not want to find the strength to stand. He wasn't even sure if he could.

But he needed to look like everything was a cake walk. He was prepared for the worst. Even if he screamed, he had to come out of it a smirking smart-ass. An annoying smirking smart-ass. If he did, maybe Essex wouldn't notice that he was looking for an escape.

Because there was no way in hell he was staying here.

He hoped his nonchalance would cause Essex to let down his guard just slightly. His hopes were dim. He already lost one mutant. Now he had a replacement. But Essex knew of Remy's past as a thief. He knew that his new patient was great at escapes and diversions and general havoc causing. Essex was probably on his toes.

But he still didn't know just how trouble the Prince of Thieves could cause. And he wasn't even aware of the Prince's girlfriend, who was probably ripping heads off to get to him.

He hoped Rogue wouldn't do anything too stupid.

God, he already really missed her….

"Please stand and follow me, Mr. LeBeau."

Ugh. Great. Standing. Okay. Play it cool, LeBeau.

With ease and grace he most definitely didn't feel, Remy hopped to his feet in one movement. When Essex turned his back, Remy mouthed a series of swear words in English, French, and Spanish. When he learned Spanish, he wasn't sure, but he needed all the swear words he could get. At one point, he even mouthed the word "mofo."

He hurt _that_ bad.

"So…" he began conversationally, "are there any other mutants here?"

He was ignored. Instead, Essex led him down a long, ominous looking hallway. But Remy was far from done asking questions.

"What'cha been up to since I saw you last five years ago?"

"Working. Observing. Running tests."

"On my blood?" he wanted to know. But another part of him feared the answer.

"Why, yes. It was very interesting. While my attempts at cloning always fell short, your blood still proved to be insightful."

Remy's stomach dropped. "Cloning," he repeated, his mouth going dry.

"Yes. But they all failed. I never could stabilize the subject and they usually died within the very early stages of its creation."

Remy didn't know what to say. He had been…cloned? Sure. It was unsuccessful but…. Something about it upset and disgusted him. Another, weirder part, felt sad for the all the clones that died so early on. Not that he wanted a bunch of copies of him walking around, hogging all the sexy. But they didn't deserved such a horrible fate. No one or nothing did.

"Nothin' beats the original," he managed to say after he was able to compose himself.

Essex unlocked and pushed open a door to a room. It vaguely reminded Remy of the room he rescued Rogue from a few months back, Room 101. Only this one was far more advanced, with its' operating table and fancy looking equipment. Well lit. large. Probably sound proof.

Remy's heart started to pound in his chest. He knew back at the mansion what he was getting himself into. He knew when he woke up shirtless and in the middle of an exercise from hell, it was only going to get worse. But it was only when he saw that operating table and those tools and the counter lined up with vials filled with various liquids of different colors did the full levity of his decision hit him.

His heart was beating so hard he was half-certain Essex would be able to hear it.

"You know, Mr. LeBeau, I had the same thought." He closed the door behind him. Then he locked it. "Which is why I am so very thrilled that you have decided to join me willingly. And you promise not to attempt any escapes?"

"Thief's honor."

This seemed to Satisfy Essex. "Please, lie down."

Reluctantly, Remy did as he was told. "What are you hopin' to achieve wit' me, doc?"

"Total kinetic control."

"I ain't gotta clue what that means."

"It means, Mr. LeBeau, you would be able to control all aspects of kinetic energy. This would include on a molecular level. If we can reach total kinetic control, the abilities you already possess would grow exponentially. And you would acquire new ones."

"Such as?"

"The ability to heal wounds. Energy blasts. Defying gravity. You could charge and blow something up with only a thought, no contact required. You could stop another's motion. Leave them unable to move at your whim." Essex's red eyes lit up with the kind of glee that genuinely terrified Remy to his bone. "Mr. LeBeau, you would exist as pure energy. Your abilities are endless and the potential limitless. I want to unlock it. I want to control it."

"I ain't easily controlled, good doctor."

Essex smiled, taking the restraints on either side of the operating table so that he could strap Remy down.

"No one said this would be easy."

XXXXX

Lorna couldn't sleep.

At first, it was because she was worried about Remy. She couldn't believe what he had done. She wished she had stopped him. But she had been so stunned by his heroic gesture, all she could do was stare up at him like some big stupid head and allow him to drape his coat over her shoulders.

Rogue was not very pleased when she finally clawed her way to her.

When she saw Lorna wearing her boyfriend's coat and her boyfriend no longer there, she grabbed Lorna by the coat and shook her, demanding answers. Her green eyes were wild and angry and worried and on fire. When Scott and Kurt finally managed to pry Rogue off her, Lorna hastily explained where Remy was.

Which resulted in Rogue screaming something so profane, even Logan blushed a little. She then proceeded to wiggle free from Scott's hold and throw him across the room.

Which was, admittedly, kind of cool.

Not that Lorna really had time to admire that. She returned Remy's coat to Rogue and gave her his message. Rogue was then ushered upstairs where Lorna heard a string of swear words and things breaking.

While Rogue unleashed hell, Lorna sat back and watched the X-Men frantically search for Remy. They continued to fail.

But they were still trying. Even now, now that night had fallen and it was sill snowing. A team was trying to find a way to find Remy while the others rested in preparation for the morning. Lorna was afraid to go to her room.

She was like, one hundred percent sure Rogue was going to kill her for putting Remy's life in danger.

When her roommate finally stomped into the room, Lorna made a hasty attempt to apologize. Rogue simply stared at her.

"I ain't mad at you, Lor," she said as if Lorna was an idiot for thinking otherwise. "I'm mad at Remy for being so _god damn dense_! _The fucking idiot_!"

Then she slammed her fist into their mirror. Glass shards rained down on to the ground. Something else did too. Something that Rogue kept tucked into the mirror, in the very corner. An old Queen of Hearts card. Battered. Torn at the corner. Wrinkled. But apparently precious, because Rogue always glanced at it in the morning and before bed. Lorna had been curious about it but never asked.

Her Goth roommate picked up the card up from the remains of her mirror and wandered over to her bed. Once there, she howled like a banshee before breaking down into a series of heart wrenching sobs. She curled herself beneath Remy's coat, cradled the card to her chest and sobbed for what felt like an eternity.

Now she was silent. Had been for awhile. Lorna imagined that Rogue had cried herself to sleep. She must have been tired from her day. Bad guy fighting, boyfriend losing, room trashing, mirror breaking, and sobbing.

It probably took a lot out of girl.

Lorna could not sleep because she was too busy thinking of Remy. Worrying about Remy. Worrying about Rogue. Wishing she could help. Wanting her John McLane "yippie-ki-yay" moment. Everyone else was fighting so hard. Making sacrifices. And all she could do was sit back and hope for the best.

She hated it.

Then she heard a rustling behind her. And more rustling. More rustling still. Confused, she turned around. Then she sat straight up.

"Rogue?"

Rogue, who was a movement away from opening her balcony doors, froze in place. Like she had been caught doing something she really shouldn't have been doing. Slowly, she turned around to face her roommate.

"Lorna."

"What are you doing?"

She hesitated. "I'm goin' to get Remy."

"But…." She frowned. "I thought you were pulled out of this mission."

"That's why I'm doin' my own rescue," she answered, defiantly lifting her chin.

"How? We can't even find him."

"Y'all can't. I can."

"How?"

Again, Rogue hesitated. She looked behind her at the balcony longingly. Subconsciously, she pulled Remy's coat on tighter around her.

"Lorna…you can't tell."

"I won't," she promised, but meant it only half-way. She didn't want anything bad happening to Rogue.

"A few months ago, Remy and I made a telepathic link."

"What's that?"

"It's like…a direct line into each other's brains."

"They're using Cerebro. They can't find him, Rogue," she reminded the Goth gently. Clearly, Rogue's hard day had taken a harder toll on her than originally suspected.

"Well, no," she said, placing her hand on her cocked out hip. "But that's cause they're doin' a broad search. Whatever Essex is doin', he manages to keep us from findin' him. We can't get into Remy's brain to find him." Rogue tapped her forehead. "But I'm already in there."

"I don't understand."

"The others are doin' a Google search for his phone number, hopin' they can find it. But I already have it and can text him back and forth. Does that make sense?"

"…sorta."

"Look." She lifted her gaze heavenward, clearly in need of patience. "I can find Remy. Everyone else thinks I need to sit back and wait and be patient. But I ain't. That sick bastard has got the man I love and I am gettin' him back. And I'm through with waitin' around for the others to figure somethin' out. I'm gettin' my man. I know I can."

"But how are you gonna magically get telepathy?"

Her defiant stance softened a little. She glanced down at her boots, abashed. "Well…what Emma don't know won't hurt her."

"Rogue!"

"Shh!" She glanced around nervously. "Geez, are you tryin' to get me caught."

"Rogue, you can't do this."

"Why the hell not?"

"What if Sinister catches you too? How are we supposed to find you? You're the only link to Remy and without you, you both are lost."

That seemed to stump her. Her mouth opened. Then it closed. Then it opened again. Then it closed again. Eventually, her shoulders slumped in obvious defeat. But that emerald determination was still vibrant in her eyes.

She wasn't done yet, Lorna could tell.

After a few more moments of silent contemplation, Rogue wandered over to where Lorna's bed and sank down beside her. The two women sat in silence.

"I got it!" Rogue suddenly announced.

Lorna very nearly jumped out of her skin. "Shh!"

"Oh. Sorry. Anyway. I got it."

"What?"

"You."

"Me?"

"You."

"What about me?"

"You wanna get back at Essex?"

"You bet your southern ass I do."

"Well, I need someone to cover my southern ass." She took Lorna by the shoulders. "Here's my deal: you and I set up our own telepathic link. Then you let me go get Remy. If I ain't home in eight hours, you inform the others. Then you can lead them to me. But you can't say a word until my eight hours are up." Her green eyes narrowed. "But I got a few choice words for Essex and I want my man. We got a deal Lorna?"

"Deal."

Yippie-ki-ya suddenly seemed a lot closer than before.

**XXXXX**

** NEXT CHAPTER**: **Rogue stops in to say hi.**


	16. The Sugah

**Hello. **

**Do you know what's distracting? Superhero Squad Online. Because I finally went ahead and got an account and it's kind of really awesome. You know what else is distracting? Break-ups. Yup. I'm single and lovin' it. You know what else is distracting? Six-foot-four Greek men who seem to want you but your stupid morals will not allow you to rebound so soon after being out of a long term relationship. NO MATTER HOW BIG HIS SMILE IS. **

**Having morals sucks. **

**You know what else is distracting? Dogs with swollen faces. Because, thanks to an allergic reaction, my dog has one. And it's gross. But apparently, according to the vet, Benadryl is recommended for swollen faced dogs. **

**Oh well. **

**Zany: if you love possessive, aggressive, and stupid Rogue, you might like this chapter. **

**Ace-of-Cyberspace: I completely and totally understand your woes of struggling to get a signal. I have all but stand on my head in an obscure corner of my house to get a signal. **

**Thanks for all the supportive reviews! You all are so amazin'.**

**I hope you enjoy this chappie. I tried not to be **_**too**_** mean to Remy….**

**XXXXX**

Remy's brain itched.

He was pretty sure that wasn't normal.

Not that he had been feeling particularly "normal" for quite some time. He wasn't sure how long. He was too busy trying to remain conscious. But his brain was itchy. A few times, he lifted a hand to scratch his head before remembering, oh yeah, it was his brain.

An itchy brain stem was the least of his worries though.

Currently, he needed to stand up. Now, whether or not he actually _wanted_ to stand up was irrelevant. Because he would be very content to remain sprawled out on the floor, sweating. He imagined eventually he would just black out. It would be sweet relief. Not being awake, that is.

But he needed to stand.

He needed to stay strong. Needed to think. Needed to find the others. Needed to escape. Needed to get back to Rogue.

God, she was going to kill him if Essex didn't beat her to it. If he did, she would probably try to bring him back to life just so she could murder him all over again. Lucky for him, this wasn't a comic, where characters can die for dramatic effect, only to be brought back again a couple of months later. So if Remy died, he would stay dead and not have to face the wrath of his girlfriend.

Also: his brain itched.

With time, the itch grew more and more prominent. At first, it was a vague tickle in the back of his head. But it grew more noticeable. Worse. More annoying. More itchy. Was this a side effect of the stuff Essex pumped into him?

He needed to get up.

Remy rolled onto his side and, eventually, onto his back. The hairy brown one who, out of apparent lack of imagination or originality, they called Hairball, stood over him. His long claws dripped with Remy's crimson blood.

"Come on, pretty boy," he taunted, his voice rumbling with a low growl. "Heal."

He was referring to the painful and deep wounds on his chest, curtsey of Hairball. He had been thrown into a room and told to fight, following Essex's experiments and needles. When Remy politely declined, he was attacked and forced to defend himself.

He didn't do so well.

Not that he wasn't completely capable. Because he was. Any other day, he could have and would have easily beat the lackey without musing a hair on his perfect head. But he was feeling funny. Whatever Essex did to him, it wasn't reacting with his body ideally. He was aching and dizzy and sweaty and a little nauseous.

And his brain itched.

Eventually, Hairball clawed Remy, sending the X-Man crashing to the ground in dizzy, sweaty, nauseous, bloody agony. Whatever Essex did to him, whatever he injected him with, it was supposed to make him heal. According to the good doctor, he had been perfecting Remy's abilities with the blood sample he'd stolen years older.

Now he had his guinea pig. He tried using the augmented blood on others but their bodies rejected it. But now he had the original.

Nothing beats the original.

That's why Essex hadn't made a play for Remy in the past. Why he waited five years after their initial meeting to capture his subject. He was still working on his blood. Perfecting. Tweaking. Experimenting. Testing. Failing. Succeeding.

Now that Remy was here, he would be able to finally get the results he was looking for.

The X-Man had no clue what hell he was getting himself in for when he agreed to leave with the geneticist. He knew it would be bad.

He didn't know it would be clawed-open-and-bleeding bad.

God, he wished his girlfriend would hurry up and rescue him. Which reminded him: his brain itched.

Hmm….

"Mr. LeBeau," Essex said mildly, from the other side of the room. Remy didn't have the strength to turn and look at him. "I would suggest that you begin trying to heal. You are losing blood."

Well obviously. He could feel it pooling around him.

"How the hell do you 'spect me to be able to do somethin' like that?" he barked with as much ferocity as he could muster. Under the circumstances, it wasn't much.

"The same way you are able to charge your deck of playing cards. How do you do that?"

Despite the blood loss and pain and itchy brain, Remy still was very much able to roll his red eyes. "I think 'bout makin' it go boom. Concentrate on my fingers. Concentrate my fingers on the card. Then my fingers start tinglin'. I let go and boom goes the card."

"Apply the same concept to the wounds on your chest. Concentrate on them. Think about it." Even though he couldn't see him, Remy could hear the smile in Essex's voice. "Just try not to blow yourself up."

"So glad you got your ha-ha's in at Remy's expense," he mumbled grumpily. But he did as he was told. Thought about his chest. How much it hurt. He centered his concentration on the gashes that were sliced across his torso. He thought about those gashes going away. Then he thought about it even harder. And harder still.

It was making his brain hurt. Not a pleasant feeling combined with all that itchiness.

But, just when he thought his head was going to explode, his chest started to tingle pleasantly. Like his fingers did just before he charged something. Which either meant he was about to heal or blow himself up. Either way, the pain would go away at least.

It was an odd feeling—not pleasant but not necessarily unpleasant either—of the gashes growing smaller and smaller before closing up completely. Even when he was fully healed, he struggled to believe it. He lifted a blood stained hand to his chest to feel for any signs of injury.

Nothing. Not even a scar.

"Spectacular," Essex breathed. Remy head his pen scratching against paper. "Hairball, as you were."

Remy was yanked off the ground before he had a chance to fully gather his wits. He found his toes brushing the ground, Hairball holding him by the throat, staring him in the face. He opened his mouth to reveal a set of razor sharp, plague covered teeth. Remy tried to determine if the teeth would be more threatening clean or dirty. But he couldn't really think, due to Hairball's poor personal hygiene. Seriously.

It smelled like he ate a poop sandwich.

Also: itchy brain.

"Come on, pretty boy," he growled, "let's see what you got. Blow me up. Glamour me. Let's see what you got."

Despite his agony, Remy mustered a rakish smile. "I'm into the rough stuff as much as the next fella, but you gonna havta ease up on me, Hairy. How 'bout a safety word?"

An annoying, smirking smart-ass.

Hairball did not seem to find his statement all that funny. He didn't even get points for being able to speak with another man's hand around his throat. And not in the sexy way he asked Rogue to do sometimes (she always said no). In the I-can't-breathe-way.

No one around here seemed to appreciate his sense of humor.

No. Instead of a laugh or even a courtesy chuckle, Remy got thrown on the floor. Hard. The kind of hard that made him see stars. And before he could recover, Hairball took his big ugly foot and kicked him in the stomach. The air abandoned Remy's lungs faster than he thought possible. He wanted to scream. Wanted to moan. Wanted to die.

He couldn't. He couldn't even breathe.

"Get up!"

He couldn't even breathe and they wanted him to stand? What more did they want? He supposed he could juggle if they really wanted to be entertained.

But apparently, they didn't want him to juggle. They wanted him to stand. And when he didn't, he was kicked again, sending him rolling across the floor.

Mother Mary and Joseph, it _hurt_.

When Remy finally caught his breath, he instantly found himself dry heaving, wanting to throw up but unable to. Another fresh wave of nausea flooded him. He was pretty sure he felt blood tricking from the corner of his mouth, but he really wasn't sure at that point. He couldn't think straight. Or see straight. The only thing he could think was that he was done with rough sex for awhile.

Which was an odd thought to have under the circumstances but there was no way he would be able to take anymore abuse. Not even the sexy, hair pulling kind.

"Essex," he panted from where he lay on the ground, his face pressed to the cool floor. His voice was smaller, raspier than usual. "You keep this up and you gonna lose your patient. I can't take much more."

Essex spoke. Remy didn't hear what. The sound of his blood pounding in his ears was blocking out all other noise. The world blurred. Maybe it was all the kicking. Maybe it was his body protesting the drugs inside him. He wasn't sure. But he felt like he was going to die right there. At that very moment, he never felt closer to death. Not even when he broke into that lab in Alberta five years earlier. Not even when Wolvie caught him and Rogue kissing that first time. Not when Selene tried to drain him dry.

Not even when Rogue found out about Belladonna.

When everything went black, he was afraid that perhaps his body had given up. But then his brain started itching even more ferociously and he knew he was alive. Beyond the black haze of suffering and the itchy brain, he became aware of the fact he was being moved. Carried, it seemed.

Which meant he was done fighting for now. Which was amazing.

It was the little victories that counted.

Remy felt himself being set down on a bed once more. Not a very soft bed but hey, he was not about to complain. He doubted they would pay him much attention anyway. He tried to be worried when he felt the restraints tightening around his wrists and ankles. Not even when he was fitted with a collar that suppressed his powers. He couldn't quite muster the strength to be concerned.

Also: his brain itched. Like, it really itched.

Like someone was back there, trying to reach out to him. Or claw its way to the surface. It, whatever the hell it was, wanted its presence to be known. And Remy most _definitely_ knew. It was as if the itch grew more prominent as it grew closer to making itself known. As it grew closer to Remy himself….

Oh.

The Cajun groaned. "_Mon Dieu_…Rogue."

As if on cue, an alarm in wherever the hell he was, sounded. Essex barked some orders to some people that Remy couldn't make himself see. They said something back before racing off.

"It seems as if someone has made an attempt to be your knight in shining armor, Mr. LeBeau," Essex said, sounding only mildly interested.

Oh, if only he knew.

Remy waited with baited breath, fighting his body's desire to no longer remain conscious. Though he slipped in and out a few times, he got a general idea of what was going on. He heard the lackey's race down the halls to stop Rogue. He heard a few loud thuds. He was worried for a moment, thinking at one point, they must have hurt her. But then he heard the distinct sound of her swearing colorfully, followed by more thuds. She kept swearing, which meant that the thuds were Essex's men falling.

That's his girl, he thought proudly.

The thuds and fight raged on for a couple of minutes before Rogue yelled a particularly harsh obscenity. One of the henchmen screamed. Thud. More swearing. A smack. Louder swearing. Footsteps toward the room.

Remy lifted his head in time to see Vertigo leading the group back into the room, minus Hairball. The big, muscular guy who they called Strong Man (again: originality and creativity at its finest) was carrying his girlfriend, holding her by her wrists, which he had held over her head. Rouge dangled from the ground, squirming, spitting fire, and swearing.

"Rogue!" he hollered. His desire to escape was renewed and he fought his restraints.

She turned to him, her jaw falling open. "What the hell are you doin' to him? He looks like hell."

"Gee thanks."

"Give me my man now or so help me god, I will rip that stupid diamond off your forehead and shove it right up your ass!"

Essex lifted an eyebrow. "My." He turned to Remy. "Does this belong to you?"

"She's not an it and yes."

"How romantic."

He ambled over to where Rogue was being restrained. Honestly, Remy thought he had seen Rogue as angry as she could be. But this was something beyond what he ever could have imagined.

She looked tired but her eyes were alight with fury and resolve. Her jaw was set in pure stubborn-as-a-mule-southern-determination, clenched so tightly he imagined her teeth were cracking beneath the strain. Her normally straight brown hair fell in tangled waves around her make-up free face. She was so livid, he could practically see the steam coming out of her nose and ears.

If it weren't so scary, it might have been sexy.

Also: she was wearing his coat over a black t-shirt and jeans. Which kind of warmed his heart.

He watched Essex approach Rogue, who followed him with eyes that would have sent a lesser man straight to his grave. He lifted a hand to touch her face.

"You touch and it's gonna be the second biggest mistake of your life, you pale, slimy, string of spit," she hissed.

"Only the second?"

"The first was when you took Remy."

Essex's smiled turned up a notch. "Cute. So you are his…mate?"

"Girlfriend."

"I suppose you don't much care for the fact that he voluntarily left with me."

"Remy's an idiot that can't be expected to rationally make judgment calls like that."

"Thanks, Rogue," he drawled, still struggling with his restraints.

"How did you find me, Rogue?" the doctor demanded.

She pursed her lips and said nothing.

"Mmm…well, then. Onward to the next question: you are a mutant, yes?"

"Yes."

"What is your power, my dear young lady?"

Once again, he lifted a hand to touch Rogue. Vertigo quickly stepped in between them.

"I wouldn't do that, boss," she explained, casting Rogue a look over her shoulder. "She's got…poison skin or something. All she did was touch Hairball and he's knocked out cold."

Essex looked past the green haired woman so he could take a closer look at Rogue. "Poison skin? How fascinating. Care to explain?"

"All I gotta do is touch someone and I take their memories and knock them unconscious. Keep my hold on you long 'nough and you might not wake up."

Remy stopped struggling long enough to note that Rogue did not mention how she also absorbed her victim's powers. Taking a closer look at her, he noticed that only one hand was gloved. The other glove was tucked into the pocket of her jeans. He also saw, on the ungloved hand, that Rogue's nails were slightly longer than normally. Nothing too different. But he swore if he looked hard enough, he could see them growing just slightly.

Like Hairball.

Her gaze flickered over to him for just a moment. In that moment, she begged him with her eyes to keep his mouth shut.

Ah. Okay. They were keeping secrets. Cool.

"How do you control these powers, Miss Rogue?"

She lifted her chin haughtily. Then glanced over at Remy. "I don't."

"Excuse me?"

"I can't. That's why I have to always wear gloves. I can't control my powers. The Professor thinks it's a result of how the manifested. It was traumatic and as a result, my brain has put a lock on my powers so they can't grow enough for me to control them."

Essex stared at her for a long time. Why he was staring, Remy didn't know but he definitely didn't like it. He also wasn't sure why Rogue was lying about her abilities but he hoped it was a part of some sort of plan she had mapped out in his head. He hoped.

There was a chance the girl just burst in here, guns blazing, and wanting to get him back. Which, as sweet as that was, wasn't necessarily prudent. Or, you know, smart.

After watching Rogue's face for several dragged out seconds, Essex tilted his head back and laughed. It reminded Remy of how he laughed at him five years ago. It still freaked him out now as much as it did then. But Rogue, his beautiful, strong Rogue, didn't even flinch under the mad man's cackle.

"How noble of Mr. LeBeau," he chuckled. "The lady's man settling down with a woman who he can't touch." He gave Rogue another prolonged look. "Not that I blame him. You are quite the lovely creature."

Despite his exhaust and pain, Remy had no difficulty mustering a sudden bout of rage directed at Essex's not-so-doctorly examination of Rogue. A growl formed in the base of his throat. "Essex…"

"Bite me," Rogue spat at the same time.

It only made his creepy little smile grow. "Saucy. You might be fun to work with."

"You wanna bet?" she challenged, quirking her eyebrow in a way she must have picked up from Remy. It made him almost smile.

Almost.

"Strong Man," Essex instructed, looking up at the man who held Rogue off the ground. "Let the young miss down and search her for any weapons."

Strong Man proceeded to drop Rogue, sending her crashing to the ground on her hands and knees. Remy's heartbeat began acting up when he saw the smirk that stole across Strong Man's face. The villain yanked her off the ground and back onto her feet. Rogue pushed his hands off her.

"With pleasure," Strong Man bellowed, approaching Rogue with a look in his eyes that both angered and frightened him all at once.

"Do not touch her," he growled, fighting his restraints.

Strong Man ignored him. He knelt so he could pat down Rogue, starting at her ankles. And then he worked his large hands upward.

Remy LeBeau was not, by nature, an angry man. He liked being happy. He was quite easy-going. Nonchalant. He was too busy being entertained by other's anger to really become upset himself. Sure, things irked and irritated him.

But never anger.

Which was a good thing, since when he lost his temper, it usually resulted in property damage that left people thousands of dollars in the hole. One could say that, when Remy LeBeau grew angry, he had anger management problems. It wasn't unheard of for the normally mellow man to attempt to crush another's windpipe or blow up a car in the heat of the moment.

But that rarely happened. And when it did, Remy LeBeau managed to have some control of himself.

Until he saw a stranger run his hands provocatively along his girlfriend's legs, up her thighs, along the curve of her hip, her stomach, and reach toward her breasts.

That was enough to make Remy LeBeau bring down an entire building. And if it weren't for the stupid collar he was fitted with, Strong Man would have been a Dead Man in only a matter of seconds.

But Remy LeBeau forgot one thing: his girlfriend was not as mellow or even tempered as he was. His girlfriend was, on a normal and regular basis, quite angry. And infamous for her moments of physical violence. So Remy LeBeau's heart swelled with relief and love when Rogue, upon seeing where Strong Man's hands were wandering, pulled back and slapped him across the face with her gloved hand.

His head snapped to the side, but seemed otherwise unaffected. He turned back to Rogue, who had folded her arms across her chest defiantly.

"You slap like a girl," he told her. Then, so fast that he almost missed it, he raised his hand and struck Rogue across the face.

And all the anger he had experienced moments before grew tenfold.

Though he couldn't actually use his powers, his eyes began to glow, sending the world into an angry red haze. He arched his back and flexed every muscle in his body in an attempt to free himself.

Because when he got loose—and he would get loose—he was going to kill Strong Man.

Rogue stumbled back, very nearly falling to the ground. But she quickly found her balance and stood. There was a drop of blood welling up at the corner of her mouth. If she noticed the blood, she made no note of it. She just walked back up to Strong Man, her expression even but unreadable.

"Well, sugah," she said, smiling demurely. "You hit like a bitch."

Pleasant smile still in place, she pulled her fist back and punched him in the face.

With her ungloved hand.

The thud that Strong Man made upon hitting the ground, unconscious, did not make Remy feel better but it was certainly satisfying.

And was it weird that he found Rogue's little display kind of arousing? It was probably weird but he didn't care: it was totally hot. Especially the way she said "sugah." He'd never heard her use the endearment before but he loved the way it sounded, rolling off her tongue with that southern twang. He hoped to hear more of this "sugah" business.

God, if he wasn't tied down right now...the things he would do to her….

Remy shook his head, remembering that he was being held captive and subject to painful experiments by a freaky geneticists. This was not the time to be thinking of sex. No matter how hot Rogue was.

But she was _really_ hot.

Essex looked at Strong Man, sprawled out and knocked out on the ground curiously. Then he turned to Rogue, who watched him with a daring look in her emerald eyes.

"Impressive. I see now why Mr. LeBeau finds you so…endearing."

"Yeah. I'm downright lovable," she drawled, rolling her eyes. Which was also kind of hot. Not that he was noticing or anything.

"Vertigo, would you mind finishing the search of Miss Rogue's person in a more appropriate manner that does not end with you unconscious on the ground, please?"

"With pleasure."

While nothing was found in Rogue's pockets, they did find several decks of cards, his bo-staff, and a carton of cigarettes in the pockets of Remy's duster. Each item was confiscated.

"Well, Rogue," Essex began, circling the girl, "you've come a long way in search of your paramour. You fought through my men, rendered two unconscious, and charmed me with your tenacity."

"Golly." She pressed her hand to her heart, tone dry. "You flatter a girl."

"You really want Mr. LeBeau?"

"I would kill each and every person that tried to get in my way, you cold hearted crotch stained bastard."

Behind them, Remy snickered.

"Then, Miss Rogue, you may have him."

That made every person in the room stop and look at him in confusion. Essex basked in everyone's puzzlement and skepticism for a moment before continuing.

"Vertigo, please fit Miss Rogue with one of your power suppressing collars—carefully—and have her and Mr. LeBeau shown to one of our holding cells." He leveled his red eyed gaze with Rogue's green one. "You may have your lover for the night. But tomorrow, both of you are mine. Mr. LeBeau has shown great progress already and I anticipate how much there is to be had breaking down and understanding your genetic structure, Rogue."

He grinned some more.

'The three of us are going to have quite a bit of fun."

**XXXXX**

** NEXT CHAPTER: Rogue and Remy finally have a moment.**


	17. The Stupid Opportunist

'**ello!**

**Guess what? The swelling in my dog's face has gone down. So yay! My dog is better. But he did eat some chocolate. Which, surprisingly, didn't kill him. He's just throwing up. A lot. **

**But whatever, y'all don't care about my dog. You care about this story. Well here's a chapter that I was very excited for. **

**Zany: you mentioned in the past that you enjoyed my style, but it's always very fun to hear. **

**Chellerbelle: I had the same thought about the Superhero Squad Emma. Even if it's a kids' game, she's far too tame to be the real Emma Frost. Far too much clothing, too. **

**Everyone else: thank you for sticking with me through this story. I'm not even close to being done. I mean, I am (kinda) close to being done with **_**this **_**story. But I'm not close to being done.**

**Confused? Good. It'll make sense later. **

**XXXXX**

"Roguey, are you still ignorin' me?"

She stared stonily ahead, ignoring him.

"You can't ignore me forever."

That's what he thought.

"Roguey, you're so far away. Why don' you come a little closer to Remy?"

"Don't call me Roguey and stop referrin' to yourself in the third person," she snapped, eyes glued on the wall in front of her. On the opposite side of the room. Away from Remy.

"Rouge…_Cherie_…won' you please look at me?"

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"_Mon Couer_…."

"No."

"I promise not to emph' you."

"…promise?"

"Cross my heart and kiss my elbow."

Reluctantly, Rogue turned to look at her boyfriend. He lay on a bed across the room, most of his features thrown into the shadows. She could vaguely make out his general form. His face was half hidden in the shadows, his eyes hooded by his hair (he really needed a haircut). But she could see his eyes glowing in the dark. When she looked at him, he smiled his infamous Remy LeBeau rakish smile. Despite the bravado, she could see in his posture how incredibly tired and worn out he was.

"Roguey, please come here."

"No."

"But don' you wanna make sure Remy is okay?"

"You're runnin' your big mouth and talkin' in the third person. You're fine," she said, wanting to fully believe that herself. But she knew her Cajun wasn't one hundred percent.

"But do you know that for sure? Remy thinks you outta come a little closer. Maybe play doctor wit' him."

"Gambit…."

"You can examine me. _All _over."

"Shut up." But she fought down a smile.

"But if an examination isn' proof 'nough, you could test my physical condition. Sounds good, eh? We can test Remy's stamina."

"You're a pervert," she snapped, but a few giggles crept into her growl.

"Course, I might get a little belligerent. Feel free to restrain me and do whatever you feel necessary. I know it means I'll be at your mercy, but I don' find that too terrible…."

She tried to be angry. She really did. But she was always really bad at staying mad at Remy. And when he started talking to her like that, her anger couldn't help but ebb. So she allowed herself to smile and laugh. And when she did, his smile grew and he chuckled a little. Then he opened her arms to her.

How was she supposed to say no to _that _kind of offer? She wasn't.

So she stood, and closed the distance between them. She knelt down so she was able to be pulled into Remy's arms. And once she was there, she pulled back and slapped him hard across the face.

This was the second time in one day she had slapped someone. Rogue hadn't done a lot of face slapping in her life. But now that she had started, she was finding it enjoyable. Rogue hoped to legitimately incorporate face slapping into her day-to-day life.

But anyway.

Remy's head snapped to side, mostly out of surprise. When he got his thoughts together, he stared at her with a combination of shock and confusion. He lifted a hand to his probably stinging cheek.

"What did you do that for?" he asked incredulously.

"For being an asshole who scared the crap outta me." She lifted her hand again. He flinched. Rolling her eyes, Rogue ran her fingers through his hair in an affectionate, girlfriend-y gesture. Instantly, Remy let his head drop and made a pleased noise from the back of his throat. "You're lucky I don't beat you for this stupid stunt."

"Mmmm…."

"Are you even listenin' to me?"

"_Non_…not at all."

Rogue sighed sadly, but continued to preen her idiot boyfriend. Silence stretched. In the silence, she looked around her holding cell. In all honesty, it wasn't as bad as she would have assumed. The bed looked rather clean. There was a toilet she had no intention of using. Roomy but empty. Poorly lit. It kind of reminded her of a creepier version of the little rooms in the nurse's office that people slept in until they could get a ride home.

Just way creepier.

But at least it looked relatively clean. There was still no way she was going anywhere near that toilet, though.

Rogue looked back down at the Cajun, who groaned happily at her touch. She knew the many faces of Remy LeBeau and this was the one trying to not make her worry. It was cute. But she was still worried.

"Hey, Rems?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you okay?"

His eyes, which had slid closed, snapped open. "Huh?"

"Are you okay?"

He hesitated. Just for a second. One teeny-tiny second. But she saw it. "Aw, Rogue." He reached up to take the hand that had been caressing him. He pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand, sending little tendrils of pleasure up the length of her arm and into her fingers. It was kind of distracting. "It's so cute when you get all worried 'bout me. Proves that you don' hate me as much as you pretend."

"You didn't answer the question, Remy."

"You look very pretty in this light."

"Remy."

"Brings out the seriousness in your eyes."

"You joke when you're afraid, don't you?"

His eyes flashed with mischief. "Shh…ancient LeBeau family secret."

"What happened, Remy?"

He kissed her palm again, his lips lingering this time. "Don' worry 'bout it. I'm good as new. A little beaten up but no new scars on me, pup."

She looked down at the scar that ran across his chest. The one she had wondered about so often. The one she had pressed kisses to in the most heated moments. The one she had traced with ungloved fingers. She never thought, in a million years, that scar would eventually leave her here, trapped in a room by an actual mad scientist with a power suppressing collar around her neck.

Of all the rotten luck.

"You're not gonna tell me?"

"_Non_. Maybe one day when you're a little older."

"Is that gonna be the same day you explain your fascination with my knee high socks, too?" she challenged, smiling at the memory.

He smiled back. "Oh, _oui_. Definitely." He sat up straight. "So what's the plan, my heroic vixen?"

"Heroic vixen…?"

"You do have a plan, don' you?"

"Sorta."

His smile faded. "Sorta," he repeated, his voice oddly vacant of any emotion. Like, at all.

"I didn't come in here completely clueless," she hastened to explain. "But I don't have all the details."

"What details do you have?"

She stood, needing to be able to think clearly to finish forming her half-baked plan. And sitting in Remy LeBeau's arms, all wrapped in bands of tanned, toned muscle, was insanely distracting. Because then she started thinking about how nice his arms were. And how nice it felt when he wrapped them around her. And how nice it was when he pulled her close. And then she was all pressed against his really nice chest. And that really nice chest was just a caress away from those washboard abs.

Washboard abs….

Wait. Dammit. He was rubbing off on her. Distracting her with smutty thoughts about his delicious body.

Stupid Cajun.

Yeah. She definitely needed to get a few feet between them so she could think and talk and breathe properly.

"Before I left, I set up this telepathic connection with Lorna."

He eyed her for a few seconds. "Is that how you found me?"

"Yeah. I could..." She wrinkled her nose. "Feel myself getting' closer to you. In my head."

He reached up to scratch his head a few times. "I could feel you gettin' closer." He tilted his head to the side, further hooding his eyes with his russet hair. "How'd you get here anyway?"

"Err…"

"What?"

"Well…."

"Rogue."

"You see…."

"Anna Marie."

Oh. The real name. Yeah. She was totally in trouble.

"I may or may not have borrowed your bike."

"MY BIKE?"

She flinched. "Err…maybe."

"My baby?"

"I thought I was your baby," she said, hoping the subject change would distract him.

"You took my bike."

"Don't pretend like I can't drive that thing. And I wouldn't have had to take it if _someone _hadn't gone and given himself to Mr. Mad Scientist," she retorted, tossing her hair over her shoulder huffily.

"Ugh. Jus' tell me the rest of the plan."

"Well, the same way I found you, Lorna is gonna come for us in a couple of hours. And she's bringin' the rest of the X-Men with her."

"Well, that's good."

"I figured that when I feel her gettin' close, you and I could make some kinda diversion. Distract them. Maybe take a few henchmen-lackey dudes out. Try and find the other mutants they got hidden 'round here."

"And how do you plan on doin' that, _Cherie_?"

"Essex doesn't know I can control my powers. And he doesn't know that I have two of his lackey's powers in storage to use later. I also got a little Emma in me too. So we have that on our side. And we have one other thing."

He lifted an eyebrow, getting to his feet slowly. "What? Didn' they search you for any fun stuff?"

"Yes. But they missed somethin'. Their search wasn't _that_ thorough."

As Remy neared, Rogue reached down into her shirt. Even though she didn't look up, she could feel Remy's eyes bulging as she dug around in her bra for something. She hoped that the poor lighting would hide her blush.

After all this time, she still blushed around Remy.

"You ain't plannin' on flashin' them, are you Roguey?" he asked, his eyes glued solidly to her breasts. "'Cause I don' think I'm okay wit' that. Don' get me wrong. I love seein' your lovely breasts as frequently as possible but I don' much care for sharin'. But if you wanna share wit' me right now, I'm okay wit' that. In fact, I'm more than okay wit' that. I encourage that. You could—"

"Oh, shut up," she interrupted, finally finding the thing she had been searching for. From her shirt, between her fingers, she pulled out a single card. She lifted it so Remy could see the battered, old, torn at the corner card. He gently took it from her.

"Is this the Queen of Hearts card I gave you?" he whispered, his voice a breathy whisper.

"Yes."

"Rogue…."

"You always knew I kept it. I love it but right now, we need to use it."

"Rogue…." He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe it.

"There will always be other cards, Rem." She pressed her hand against his. "Other memories. And I got you. That's more important than one card."

"Roguey…_Mon Dieu_…I can't. I gave this to you."

Despite knowing close proximity to a shirtless Remy LeBeau often lead to clouded thoughts and judgment, Rogue dared to take a step closer. She covered his single large hand with her two, tiny ones.

"And I'll never forget that, Rems. But we gotta make this one count." She smiled up at him gently. "Besides, I still got those long black gloves you gave me."

That made some of the bewilderment leave him. Instead, his expression softened a little at the mention of the gloves Rogue had yet to wear. Taking the moment in, she pressed a kiss to the hand she held within hers.

"You're an opportunist, Remy LeBeau. You take what you get and run with it."

He smiled, nodding his head at that. Carefully, he tucked the card into the recesses of his pocket. "Speakin' of bein' an opportunist…." He hooked his finger around her belt loop, closing the distance between them.

"Hey! What are you doin'?"

"Kissin' you," he answered, sounding as if she was a simpleton for not knowing the answer to what was apparently a very obvious question.

"But you can't do thammmmumphh…."

Apparently, he could. And he did. And once he had her, he did not let up.

It was funny how with just the touch of his mouth, Remy LeBeau made everything fade. The annoying collar around her neck, the odd smell of their holding cell, the horrible situation, common sense. Instead, all she could think to do was curl her fingers around her neck and kiss him back. And not let go.

An opportunist, indeed.

"Why now?" she asked when she managed to take her tongue back.

"_Cherie_…Rogue…do you realize that for the first time in months, this is the longest time alone we've had wit'out the chance of interruption?" He pulled her nearer, his mouth on her throat. "You don' know how much I've missed you," he murmured.

And when she felt his arms tightening around her and his kisses burning her skin, Rogue realized how much she had missed him. Part of it was due to a lot of unfortunate timing and shit luck. But another part was because of her. Because she was afraid to throw herself into the relationship fully. But on the entire ride here, she couldn't help but think about just what she was doing. Diving head first into what could have been a deadly situation. Just to make sure her boyfriend came out okay.

That sounded a whole lot like serious commitment in her books. Which wasn't good. It was scary.

Maybe it was too late to keep Remy LeBeau from stealing her heart.

She didn't know. She was confused. All she knew in that moment is that she had missed him too. But she wasn't prepared to do…that. To make that big of a leap. To hand herself over to him wholly. It was just so…no.

She needed to put some distance between them. That naked torso and those stupid washboard abs were messing with her head.

Washboard abs….

"Rems," she murmured, putting her arms in between their bodies. She pushed in a gentle but no-nonsense way, trying to free herself from his hold. His arms around her were locked but after seeing her struggle for a few seconds, he released her. His arms dropped lamely at his side. Perhaps a bit too quickly, Rogue crossed to the other side of the room.

Away from him.

She turned her back and dropped her head into her hands. Too much. Not enough. Nothing was making sense.

"_Cherie_…."

His voice was only a sad little whisper. If she weren't expecting him to say something, she wouldn't have even heard it. But she heard, in that singular French endearment, how much he missed her. How he wanted her to be close once more. How hard he had fallen for her.

She missed him too.

It was too much. Too much. Not now. Everything was hell. Outside of their romantic world, everything had been thrown into turmoil. In case he forgot (since he was so busy seducing her with his delicious muscles), they were being held against their will to be experimented on in a few short hours. Others lives were at stake. The X-Men were on their way.

That was important.

This wasn't even an ideal setting for any form of romance, to boot. They both needed to concentrate. She knew this was true.

But she couldn't help but remember what he said about how, after so much time of stolen seconds together, this was the most alone, uninterrupted time they had in what felt like in an eternity.

And she did miss him too.

God, this sucked. It really did. And now, stupid traitorous tears were springing up in her eyes. It was all the damned stressed. Between saving Remy's life and salvaging her relationship and trying to keep her head together, she was losing it.

Now tears. Great. Fan-friggin'-tastic.

She felt Remy come up behind her as she fought down a wave of tears. He put his hands on her shoulder. Gently. Like he was trying to calm her. Soothe her. Like she was a skittish doe he wanted to keep from flitting away. In the one touch, she felt tenderness and affection. Her shoulders slumped and she was almost crying again. Because she wanted to throw herself into his arms and let him make everything okay.

But she just couldn't.

He spoke her name. Just a whisper against her skin. Slowly, he pushed the hair aside on the nape of her neck so it was bare. He pressed a lingering kiss there, his breath hot on her surprisingly sensitive skin. Rogue's spine straightened and her breath hitched audibly.

Dammit. He had her. And she was so enthralled, she probably wasn't going to do a damn thing to stop him. But seriously: he was being so incredibly warm and kind and soft and loving and washboard abs. How was she supposed to say no?

He kissed the back of her neck again, sending a little zing down her body, almost rousing a moan out of her. He lifted his mouth to kiss the hollow beneath her jaw.

It all happened so slow. The kisses soft as snow and hot as fire that were trailed down the length of her neck lasted an eternity each. He tugged on the sleeve of her black shirt, pulling it down so his mouth could burn a fiery path along her freshly exposed shoulder, too. Then his hands slid to her hips, sliding until they spread out along her stomach.

Stupid, skilled, thieving hands that knew exactly what they were doing.

Rogue placed a hand over his, half wanting to stop him. Half wanting to guide him. In the end, she did neither. She let his hands roam, hers on top of his.

She leaned. Or maybe he tugged. Maybe both. She wasn't sure. Either way, she ended up with her back pressed to Remy's chest. The hardness of his body in contrast to hers. The steady thump-thump of his heart. And as his hands continued their search of her, almost brushing along her pelvis and just barely skimming the underside of her breasts, she felt both of their breathing grow heavy and ragged. It was an exquisite torture, this game of almost.

Bastard. Stupid Cajun bastard.

Remy leaned down to kiss the back of her neck once again, his hands sliding along the curves of her torso. His lips drifted as low as the shirt would allow.

"If you're goin' to stop me," he said in a raw, earthy, grumbly, manly voice that was dripping with testosterone, "now would be the time."

Like hell she was going to stop him at this point.

So he tugged the shirt over her head. Then he undid the snaps to her practical and far from sexy bra. But he didn't take it off of her. He allowed for it to hang precariously from her shoulders. Then he took a wonderful (but stupid) lifetime to kiss every single inch of skin he had bared. Only after he had finished this, did he turn her around so they could finally face each other.

His face was just as raw as his voice was with emotion, his eyes dark and wanting. But not just with lust. With love. Whether he intended to or not was unclear and maybe she would never know, but in that one look, she saw his plea to surrender herself to him. Heart, body, and soul.

She couldn't bring herself to say yes. But she couldn't quite say no either.

His hand slid into her hair. And it was suddenly like that moment when they first met not all that long ago. The almost-but-not-quite promise in his eyes. The way he leaned down and she leaned forward. She wasn't sure if he was going to kiss her or not and she wasn't sure if she was going to make any attempt to stop him.

But then he almost blew her hand up.

But okay. Whatever. Forget that part. The part she was focused on was the way both of them seemed half-sure as to whether or not they should proceed with something so…crazy. Only this time, he surged forward after a brief moment of hesitation, kissing her. And his mouth was gladly welcome.

*It made Rogue's heart swell with delight. And love. And happiness. And so many different emotions, she was sure that her heart would explode. Explode as if Remy had touched it himself. Which she guessed he had done. Not literally. But he had touched her heart and it was going to explode with all the love she felt for him and there was nothing anyone could do about it except kiss him back with everything she had and bask in her exploding heart together.*

Eventually, he took hold of the back of her thighs, hoisting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. Without ending their kiss, he led her back to the little bed in the corner of their cell.

Yeah, the circumstances were rather crappy, but she was going to take their moment alone while they had it.

She supposed Remy LeBeau wasn't the only one who was an opportunist.

**XXXXX**

** Whoo. Well, that was a doozey to write. **

** *a direct quote from my one-shot, "A Moment Uninterrupted." It's one of my favorites and I feel, considering that story was about Remy and Rogue constantly being interrupted, it could fit in this chapter quite nicely. Just had to tweak it slightly. **

** Side note: while typing this "love scene," the song "Bad Things" came on. You know. The True Blood theme song. "I wanna do bad things with you." I found this humorous. Then, following the song about doing bad things, "Beautiful Mess" by Jason Mraz came on. Very pretty. Very romantic. Fitting. Made me smile. **

**NEXT CHAPTER: Lorna gets a new outfit and we add more items to the list. Wait..what. Opps. Wrong story. Well, Lorna **_**does **_**get a new outfit. But ignore that bit about the list. Getting my stories mixed up. **


	18. The Uniform

Oh god.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

Eight hours were up. Like way up. Totally up. Had been up for a while. A long while. But a few hours ago, Rogue put up some kind of…wall. Before, Lorna could feel her presence in her head. Like a little tickle she could feel but it wasn't terribly annoying. Tolerable. But all of the sudden, it's like an iron curtain was dropped and the tickle was gone.

Not good, not good, not good, not good.

Really bad.

Before the iron curtain, Lorna had a pretty good gage on what was happening. She couldn't tell exactly but she knew enough. Rogue rode Remy's motorcycle like lighting down the streets, had some sort of confrontation with someone, talked to Sinister, found Remy, then…disappeared. There was no indication that something had gone wrong.

But what if something _had _gone wrong?

How would Lorna be able to find them? What was Sinister doing to them? Were they okay? Were they…dead? Oh god, what if they were dead?

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.

Dead.

This was like, super bad. Way bad. Horrible. Horrific. Miserable.

She should have stopped Rogue when she tried to sneak out in the first place. She should have told Logan or something. Oh god, when Logan found out about this, Lorna would be dead.

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.

This was an awful situation.

When the X-Men discovered Rogue's lack of presence, they first questioned her. When Lorna stuttered out an awkward "I don't know" they completely dismissed her and went on a wild search. Now two X-Men, along with dozens of other mutants, had gone missing.

And it was all her fault.

Okay. Well, not _all _her fault. But she had seriously screwed up.

She had been musing all night on how to somehow find her missing teammates. And how to explain her royal screw up to Logan. Not that he had a lot of time to spare. He was searching like mad for Rogue, who apparently, he looked after like a daughter.

Lorna really wished someone had told her that _before _she let Rogue shimmy out the window on a possible suicide mission.

What a great way to start off the day. A suicide mission and then death by Logan when he found out what she did. Because Logan was totally going to kill her. Kill her dead. Even more dead than….than…than someone who was really dead.

She was so freaked out she couldn't even think of a good dead person.

"Lor?"

She shrieked a little, her heart skipping a beat. She turned, her hand over her chest. But it was just Bobby, having cracked open her bedroom door just enough to poke his face through. Upon seeing her surprise, he retracted a little.

"Bobby, what the hell?"

He blinked. "I'm…sorry. Just…I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Lorna stared at him for a few seconds. "You want to see how _I'm_ doing?"

"Yes?" he semi-answered, seeming to be thrown off by her tone.

"Do you realize that two of our teammates—your roommate—are missing and in the clutches of a psycho doctor?"

"Yes, but I still thought that someone outta check in on you. I figured you can't be having an easy time with this. How do you know Rogue is with Sinister?"

"Err…I don't. I was just…you know what?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. Get in here."

He quickly slid into the room, closing the door behind him. Lorna resisted the urge to roll her eyes but made room for him to sit down next to her on the bed. He sat a suitable distance away, but he allowed for his knees to brush hers. Lorna did not call him out or move away because she was trying to decide if she disliked the feeling. She was pretty sure she liked it. She was pretty sure she really liked Bobby, too.

But there was other stuff, important stuff to be worried about, romantic concerns be damned.

"I know you went through a lot and with everything that happened with Rogue and Remy, I bet it was taking a lot out of you. The rest of the X-Men can worry about them." Tentatively, gingerly, he let his hand brush hers. She thought he would take it, but instead he wrapped his pinky finger around hers. "But I can take a minute to worry about you."

Ohhhh. How was she supposed to damn romantic concerns when he said stuff like _that_?

Lorna tightened her hold on his pinky. "You're the sweetest, Bobby."

"Thanks." He blushed a little, but tried to play it off. He always tries to play it off. "So, uh, what's up?"

"What's up? You come all this way just to ask me what's up?"

"Uh…." He shrugged. "Yes?"

If he weren't so endearing, Lorna would find him silly. But he was very endearing. So she allowed herself to put her head on his shoulder. She felt Bobby stiffen at the contact but soon relaxed.

"I'm tired, Bobby."

He cleared his throat, but his voice still cracked when he spoke. "You are?"

"Yeah."

"Did you not sleep well?"

"No, I didn't, actually. But that wasn't the kind of tired I'm talking about. The kind of tired where you feel like you can't think another thought or take another step without screaming or passing out. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah…" he answered quite seriously, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Lorna allowed for this to happen. She readjusted so her cheek was pressed to his chest. His heart was beating really fast in his chest, which was beyond adorable. She peeked up at him through her lashes.

"Bobby?"

"Yes?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes," he said, wrapping his finger around a strand of her green tresses.

"Don't push it."

He dropped the hair. "Oh. Okay. Sorry."

"It's okay."

"What's the secret?"

She drew in a deep breath. "I know what happened to Rogue."

She felt his try to remain still, unnerved. The effort he put into impressing her was heartwarming. "You do?"

"Please, don't tell Mr. Logan."

"I promise I won't, Lor."

"She sorta…told me that she knew where Remy and Sinister may or may not be hiding. And then she may or may not have cut a deal with me to keep it a secret from the X-Men. But on the condition that she may or may not set up a telepathic link with me so I could find her later." Lorna chewed her lip. "But she may or may not have suddenly disappeared hours ago and…"

She trailed off distractedly. Bobby squeezed her shoulder. "And what? Lor?"

Her brain tickled.

"Rogue?" she asked aloud.

There was a very long pause. _You don't have to say it out loud. Just think at me._

"How do I 'think at you?'"

"Lorna? Who are you talking to? What's wrong."

"Shut up, Bobby. I'm thinking."

_Just think at me. Think 'bout sendin' your thoughts to my head. _

_ Like this?_

_ Just like that._

"Lorna, what are you doing? What happened to Rogue? Who are you talking to?"

She ignored Bobby, pushing herself out of his arms so she could sit up straight.

_Rogue, where the bloody poop did you go? Eight hours passed like, five hours ago._

_ Err…yeah._

_ What happened?_

_ Don't worry about it._

"Lor, should I get the Professor or something?"

_Did someone hurt you, Rogue?_

She didn't know it was possible, but Lorna was pretty sure Rogue chuckled into her head. _No. I am far from hurt._

_ Then what in the name of the holy grail kept you away for so long?_

_ Nothing, _she thought evasively. But Lorna could feel her keeping a thought away from her.

_What are you hiding, Rogue?_

"Lorna? Helllooooooo? Earth to Lorna!"

Suddenly, the thought that Rogue was trying to keep away slipped through the cracks for the briefest of moments. She saw a flash of Remy LeBeau, who was lacking a shirt…and pants. Then another flash of her teammate's limbs wrapped around each other.

_Oh god! Rogue! That is so gross!_

_ It's not gross…it's awesome. _

_ Is __**that **__where you've been this whole time?_

_ No. We fell asleep._

_ Oh._

_ I mean, ol' Rems is a powerhouse full of stamina. But not __**that **__much._

_ Dammit, Rogue!_

_ Well, it's true,_ she retorted defensively. _Maybe little Bobby Drake can help teach you that one day…_

Lorna gasped, which only served to make Bobby more concerned about her current condition. He carefully put a few more inches between them. When Lorna jumped to her feet, Bobby simply looked at her strangely, yet said nothing.

Lorna had a feeling this little display was ending any attraction he may have felt for her. Poor thing.

_Okay. That's more than I ever needed to hear. Ever. Where are you?_

Rogue's tone sobered immediately. _You'll be able to feel yourself getting' closer. I know it sounds silly, but the closer you get, the stronger my presence in your head will be. Get the X-Men and I might even be able to give you some directions if I can remember. Course, I might be a little distracted._

_ What's wrong?_

_ I think they're gonna be comin' for us soon. I hear voices. And sounds. It's kinda freakin' me out. I don't think me and Rems have a lotta time before they start workin' on us. So please…hurry. _

_ Pssh. _Lorna crossed her arms. _You're the one who spent the past five minutes recounting your tryst with Remy. Not me._

_ Lorna. _

_ What?_

_ Hurry. Please. I'm kinda scared. I think Rems is too. _

Lorna dropped her arms, all agitation leaving her at once. _I'm on my way Rogue. Just stay with me._

_ Will do, kiddo._

Lorna turned to Bobby, who was eyeing like she needed serious psychological help. Which okay, from the conversation, it sounded like she did. But seriously. Just a few hours ago, he would give anything to cop a feel and now he was looking at her like Magneto just popped out of her forehead.

Give the girl a little more credit.

"Bobby, I need you to go get Logan and the Professor."

He frowned. "But…didn't you just want me to _not _talk to them?"

"That was before. I can find Rogue now. We gotta hurry."

He stared at her blankly. "Uh….huh?"

She sighed, placing her hands on Bobby's shoulders, staring into his chocolate brown eyes. When he looked at her the way he was looking at her now, it looked like the chocolate was melting.

Just for her.

"Bobby, please go get the Professor for me." She shook him a little. "Please."

"Okay." He grinned goofily. "Anything for you, Lorna."

Only he didn't move. And neither did Lorna. He just kept staring into her eyes, his melting for her. And yeah, there was an emergency. But in that one moment, Lorna allowed for herself to be drawn in by Bobby and his heated look .He really was such a sweetheart.

And then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward, puckering his lips.

Effectively ending whatever moment had formed between them.

"Bobby!"

That seemed to snap him out of it. "Err, right! Sorry, sorry." He stared at her some more.

"Bobby! The Professor!"

He jumped to his feet like he had been electrocuted. "Right. Err…yeah. The Professor. I'm on it."

He took one last second to meet her gaze before darting out the room. Lorna allowed herself to linger after his departure for a few seconds before she ambled over to the closet. Mission time.

She'd never been on an official X-Men mission before.

Excitement and fear bubbled up in her stomach as she searched for something to wear on the mission. She didn't have a cool leather uniform yet so she needed to improvise. With…something. She wasn't sure with what, exactly.

Were blue jeans acceptable to wear on a super awesome X-Men mission? She wasn't sure but doubted it.

As she scanned her clothing options, Lorna's eyes passed over something on Rogue's end of the closet. Black. Green around the chest. Shoulder pad thingies. Yellow belt.

Her uniform.

Lorna tapped her chin thoughtfully. Her and Rogue were about the same size. Except for…

She looked down at her breasts, then Rogue's uniform.

She debated as to whether she wanted to risk wearing a uniform that would be a little loose where she needed it to be form fitting and, deciding that it was better than nothing, Lorna reached into the closet and took it.

It wasn't like Rogue was here to use it or anything.

_Your boobs won't fit, _the Goth chimed in.

_ Shut up, Rogue_, Lorna snapped, kicking her shoes off.

Tiny boobs or not, it was time to get her John McLane moment.

**XXXXX**

**NEXT CHAPTER: Remy makes his one card count and Rogue faces the truth. **


	19. The McClane

**Before you yell at me for how long it took to update this, please know it wasn't apathy. It was because this chapter is so friggin' long and I had to perfect it. I had been working on it tirelessly almost every night. Then there was the editing process and a little rewriting to be done. **

**But here it is. The big fight. **

**Onward to responding to your reviews!**

**Zany: it's funny that you mention your dislike of Rogue's costume… Also, thanks for the review of "Seven Sins." I've been enjoying "Red and Black Harley" so much and I fully intend to review those chapters. It's great and I am so excited for your next update. **

**xLeBeaux: thank you so much. I'm glad that you like it. **

**lina: I'm sorry about my lack of updates but hopefully you'll forgive me. I'm glad you like "Seven Sins." **

**Chellerbelle: you're the best. You've been so supportive and I really appreciate that. So thank you so much. **

**And finally….**

**The McClane. **

**XXXXX**

"Do it again."

Remy lifted his eyes, hating growing in his heart. There weren't a lot of people or things in the world Remy hated. He hated snow. He hated not having chocolate. He hated when Rogue wore clothes. He hated dogs that wore Snuggies. He hated the actor Taylor Kitsch. But right now, Nathaniel Essex topped that list. If he could, he would kill the man. He would do it and never look back. But he couldn't.

Rogue.

He had Rogue.

He never outright threatened her existence. But when he threw Remy into the observation room again after pumping him with more drugs that made his skin warm and heart thump like crazy, he stood on the other side of the glass. When Remy frowned heavily at him, Essex dragged a bound Rogue into the room. Now, the only thing between Remy and his Rogue was a thick sheet of glass.

And Essex.

The threat was there. Unspoken but clear. Don't cooperate and it's at the expense of his girlfriend.

So Remy was a good little Cajun. For now.

"Try again, Mr. LeBeau."

He was a good little Cajun for now. But he was aching to misbehave.

He was also aching in general. Honestly, he didn't know how much more of this his body could take. Sure, his powers were getting stronger. Massively so. But Remy was not familiar with controlling these new, stronger abilities. And whatever Essex was pumping into him, his body was only vaguely accepting.

"What should Remy be expectin' today?" he asked earlier, when Essex first approached him that day with the mother of all needles filled with something that actually kind of looked like pudding. Vanilla pudding. Or maybe tapioca.

Whatever.

"Today, we will be working on your ability to charge an object, from a distance using only your mind."

"I can do that?"

"Not yet." Without preamble, he pressed the needle into the vein found in the bend of Remy's arm. It was icy as it made its way through his bloodstream, whatever that pudding stuff was. "But you will. By the time I'm through with you, Mr. LeBeau, you will be able to charge organic matter."

Remy blinked, then shivered. "You mean like…blowin' up people?"

"Yes."

While Remy, in an angry tirade, had occasionally thought of blowing up someone like his father or Belladonna or One-Eye, he would never, ever consider actually doing it. So he really didn't care about suddenly acquiring the ability to do so. Just imagine what would happen if someone caught him on a bad day when he was feeling recklessly impulsive. Or, at least, more recklessly impulsive than usual.

"Hey, Remy, I decided that you need to be assigned more Danger Room sessions because I'm One-Eye and I don't know what fun is and—_**BOOM**_!"

Hmmm…. Maybe….

No. He still didn't want that power, as tempting as it might be.

Of course, he wouldn't gain that ability if the X-Men moved their asses and hurried up with their little rescue.

But for now, his limbs were shaking, his body was aching, and sweat was dripping off every available surface on his body. There was also the minor annoyance of his hair hanging loosely in his face.

When this was over, he was getting a haircut.

"Do it again, Mr. LeBeau."

Remy glared at Essex through the glass. "I can't," he panted, struggling for air. It felt like iron hands were wrapped around his lungs. And with every breath, they got a little tighter. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Remy related this feeling to a boa constrictor.

Essex smiled, lifting a pale hand. Without looking away from Remy's exhausted eyes, he ran the back of his hand down the length of Rogue's cheek. She sneered and recoiled from his touch, but he took her chin in his hand.

"Try anyway," the doctor told Remy calmly.

Remy curled his lip back but looked across the room. On a table, at the far end of Remy's tiny prison, was a tiny, ceramic statue of some person of little to no importance. Around the statue were the broken and destroyed pieces of another statue similar to it that Remy had blown to bits. Without touching it.

He did it once. It took way too much out of him. He really didn't think he could do it again, despite Essex's deepest desires for him to. His body was protesting. Maybe giving up. His limbs, which felt kind of watery, were beginning to tingle now. The way his finger did right before he charged something. He remembered a conversation he had with Essex earlier, about how if he achieved Total Kinetic Control, he would exist as pure energy.

He felt like he was on his way there. It was not a very nice feeling. It felt like when his powers first manifested and his fingers always tingled and he was accidently blowing up things like toilets and loaves of bread. He hated that feeling of not having control. And that was just his fingers that were tingling then. Now it was spreading to his body and he wasn't quite sure if he would be able to contain all the energy coursing through him.

Maybe he would just blow up.

He felt like he was going to. Total Kinetic Control sounded cool in theory, but in all actuality, it really sucked.

Essex wanted him to blow up the stupid statue without touching it.

Remy wanted to eviscerate Essex.

He couldn't do either.

Essex tapped the glass, his expression mild. "Mr. LeBeau, I've tried to be polite. I truly have. But clearly, that is not the way to get a response from you. Perhaps you will take better to outright threats."

Faster than you could say "Sweet Sookie Stackhouse," Essex had wrapped his hand around Rogue's throat, rousing a strangled scream from her. He pulled her from her feet and sent her to her knees, while she clawed at his hands with gloved hands.

"Do it, Mr. LeBeau. Or I'll be forced to take the unoriginal villain approach and hurt your pretty girlfriend."

On the ground, Rogue wheezed. Essex cocked an eyebrow, his hold on her throat growing marginally looser.

"What did you say, my dear?"

"Kiss the darkest part of tiny, pale ass," she gasped, still struggling for freedom from his grip.

"Charming. But I would appreciate it if you watched your language, young lady."

He dragged her forward, making her scream once more. Only not like the mostly surprised one she had let out once before. This time, her cry sounded more agony filled. More helpless. On the verge of tears.

Remy's eyes burned with ferocity he didn't think he was capable of summoning so quickly. But it was as if all that hate within him came forth and pushed him to do what Essex asked of him. He looked at the statue and thought it blowing up, his powers seeming to be fueled by his sudden fury. Freakishly quickly, the statue was surrounded with a familiar pink aura before exploding into hundreds of pieces.

"Very good, Mr. LeBeau."

He heard Essex release his hold on Rogue. He heard him throw her aside like she was an old cigarette. He heard her fall to the ground with a painfully loud thud, not breaking her fall apparently. He heard her cough. Then her heard her weakly tell Essex to do something to himself that was most definitely anatomically impossible.

Remy only heard these things. He didn't see them. He didn't see anything for that matter. Well…no. That's a lie. For one second, after he blew up the statue with only a thought, a bunch of red and black dots danced in front of his eyes for a couple of confusing seconds. Then it was black. And dizzy. And his heart was probably breaking his ribs it was beating so hard. And he could hear his blood pounding in his ears and feel it race through his veins. He was hot but his sweat was cold. Everything was tingling all the way from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair.

He was gonna blow up.

Yup. That was it. Remy LeBeau was gonna blow himself up, he was sure of it.

He waited for it. Idly wondered if it would hurt. Decided it wouldn't matter. And he waited.

And waited.

And he didn't blow up. Which was cool and all. Not being dead, that is. But that also meant he was still awake to feel the tingly, sweaty miserable hell his body was going through. Which wasn't so cool.

But then that darkness that was swimming before his eyes decided it wanted to give Remy a big ol' bear hug and he fell unconscious, which was a pretty nice escape.

XXXXX

Before Logan chewed her out, Lorna Dane didn't know there were so many swear words. But she totally knew now. She also knew she was in for a world of Danger Room sessions once this was over. She tried not to think about all the trouble she was in. Which wasn't too hard, because she was in so much trouble, she couldn't even begin to comprehend it. At least that's what Logan told her.

She needed to concentrate on leading the X-Men to Remy and Rogue.

Rogue had been right. About being able to feel herself getting closer. Rogue's thoughts became clearer in her head. Louder and vivid. Currently, Rogue was kind of freaking out because something was wrong with Remy. And she was angry. And her throat hurt. But they were getting closer.

She needed to concentrate. Only it was a little hard, considering she had to stay up front with the pilot so she could direct him where to direct the jet.

The pilot was Logan. So things were a little awkward to say the least.

"We're getting really close," she told him, gnawing on her bottom lip.

He grunted. "Blondie, Red," he barked at the two telepaths in the jet. "You pickin' anything up?"

Both women were frowning with concentration. Jean screwed up her face.

"A little," she said.

"Whatever Essex is using to keep us out is not as strong as we grow nearer," Emma explained. "We can pick up the fact that people are thinking. But how many there are, who the thoughts belong to, and the content of the thoughts are still shielded from us. But there are cracks in his system we can exploit."

"Are we keeping our telepathic presence from him?" Kitty asked.

"Working on that," Betsy gritted, a vein in her forehead throbbing with effort.

Lorna sighed, then pointed Logan toward Rogue's location. She was near. She could feel it.

_We're almost there, Rogue._

XXXXX

_Cajun, please wake up._

Apparently, Remy was not allowed to be unconscious in peace. Because even when he was knocked out, his girlfriend would poke around in his head, trying to wake him up.

_ I'm up, I'm up_, he groaned. Mind-groaned. It was weird how he was able to do that. Mind groan.

_Don't open your eyes, _Rogue told him seriously. _They're sendin' someone to look in on you so try to look helpless. _

_ Why?_

_ I just heard from Lorna. They're almost here. _

_ Ah. _

_ It's time, sugah. _

Really. He would never get sick of hearing her say that.

But enough about that. It was time. Remy was ready for that. Even if he wasn't quite sure if he could stand or move or continue to think coherently was unimportant. He needed to save Rogue. Save the others.

So he had to make his one card count.

He heard the approach of footsteps. Years of feigning sleep and looking helpless assured Remy didn't so much as flinch when someone leaned down only inches from his face. He waited for the moment his body told him to move. Not a second earlier. Even if it was giving up on him, Remy LeBeau always trusted his body. And he was going to make sure his body fought one last good fight.

Then, whoever stood over him, breathed heavily onto his face.

Ah. There was his moment.

Remy's eyes popped open. He found himself face to face with the one they called Gorgeous George.

Stupid name.

"_Bonjour_," he greeted good naturedly. He then proceeded to head-butt George.

Hello. Head-butt. Goodbye.

George stumbled backwards. It was opportune moment for Remy to swing his legs around, sweeping George's feet from beneath him. Before he hit the ground, Remy was on his feet and grabbing the other man by the collar of shirt. His muscles shook with the strain and protested the movement, but he lifted George off the ground and threw the man across the room. Into the glass that separated Remy from his Rogue.

Through the glass, that no longer separated Remy from his Rogue.

He ran for them. He saw Essex move to do something. Attack him. Maybe attack Rogue. He wasn't sure. It didn't matter. He wouldn't have time to do anything. Because Remy reached into his pants and pulled out the old battered Queen of Hearts card he tucked into the waistband of his boxers.

She always got him out of the worst trouble.

Remy charged the card, his heart aching as he did it. He aimed. He threw it. It landed exactly where he wanted it to. Which was directly in Essex's face. It appeared as if the drugs made his powers a little stronger too, because when it exploded in his face, it was much stronger, louder, brighter than any of the other times Remy had charged a playing card.

Not that it was a bad thing.

The mad doctor cried out in pain, stumbling and falling backward. Remy saw that his skin was burning and smoking.

He knew he didn't have a long time. Essex wouldn't stay disoriented too long. So Remy dove through the shattered window, ignoring completely the cuts he received on his feet in the process, and landed beside his smirking girlfriend.

"Hullo, baby," he said casually, pressing his index finger to the cuffs that bound her wrists and then the collar around her neck. He charged them both, just a little.

"Ow," Rogue hissed when the collar sizzled before falling to the ground.

"Did I hurt you?" He lifted her chin and saw that her skin was burned a little from his charge. "_Desole._"

"Hey, Rems."

"_Oui_?"

Rogue pointed to Gorgeous George, who was starting to move about on the ground. Then she pointed to the door, where the rest of Essex's men were pouring in. Then she pointed to Essex, who was crawling to his feet, a hand held over his face. Blood dripped between his fingers.

"Ah." Remy nodded calmly. "I see. We'll, _Cherie_, let's have at it, eh?"

She smiled weakly but nodded, turning to face the others. Remy directed his attention to Essex.

"What happened to 'thief's honor?'" he asked, dropping his hand. Remy was proud and disgusted to see that his that his card had blown a nice chunk out of the good doctor's face, leaving him bloody and burnt and what Remy assumed to be in a lot of pain. It was just a shame Essex was also healing, slowly but sure.

Remy smirked. He wasn't in a smirking mood. His body was in more of a "pass out and maybe die later" mood but he was going to continue smirking anyway.

"Thief's honor? You fell for _that_?"

XXXXX

Punch. Punch. Kick.

Dodge. Duck. Dip. Dive. Dodge.

Kick. Elbow to the stomach. Duck. Roll.

Oww. Stand back up. Back flip. Spinny kick (she loved doing spinny kicks).

Run. Punch. Punch. Grab. Throw. Pin down. Punch. Punch. Punch. Uh oh.

Run. Duck. Slide. Roll. Stand up. Uh oh. Get back down.

This was what it was like insides Rogue's head whenever she got into a fight. Sometimes, if she was really angry, there were bad words thrown into the mix. But right now, she was too busy focusing on fighting Vertigo _and _Hairball _and _Strong Man. She started to think that Remy had it easy, only facing two people. Then she remembered one of them was Essex.

Fair enough.

At least she had a little bit of Emma, Lorna, and Remy to help her out. She didn't have anything to charge as Remy, but having his added reflexes and some combat skills was great. Emma's telepathy helped protect her mind from Vertigo's attack.

Then there was the added bonus of Strong Man and Hairball she'd absorbed.

She didn't know how to use Lorna's powers quite yet. But at least she had that tucked away in her back pocket.

As she worked to simultaneously kick butt and not get beaten up, her eyes darted across the room. Hanging up, as casually as you please, was Remy's duster. She hoped against hopes that if they were stupid enough to keep the duster within reach, maybe they left some of Remy's goodies inside.

So she used her training (with the hint of Remy's reflexes) to easily, gracefully slid out the way of Hairball's elongated claws. She channeled Emma and took on diamond form so that she could take hold of his claws without doing harm to the palm of her hand.

Then she snapped them backward, breaking them.

He let out a beastlike roar of pain, staring in pure shock at his shattered claws. Rogue took advantage of his shock so that she could deliver a diamond hard punch directly to his face. In his disorientation, she took him by the scruff of the neck and swung him around and threw him into the oncoming Strong Man. The two went sailing across the room, leaving Rogue time to deal with Vertigo and grab Remy's coat.

She ran down the length of the room to the duster. There was nothing between it and her except Vertigo. A problem that was easily solved with a hand around the throat and a kick to the back of the knees. Vertigo dropped, with one of Rogue's hands still wrapped around her throat, she used her free hand to reach over and take the duster off the hook it was hanging on and slung it over her shoulder.

"Where all y'all hidin' the others?" she demanded.

Vertigo snarled. "Go to hell."

Rogue shrugged, lifting a gloved hand to her mouth so she could yank her glove off with her teeth. "Fine. Don't answer. I'll get the answers whatever way I can."

XXXXX

_Lor, I know where they're keepin' the others._

_ Where?_

_ Throughout the holding area. Multiple floors. Two or three cells on each floor. Just over a dozen prisoners total. Send the X-Men for them. Right away._

_ What about you and Remy?_

_ We can take care of ourselves for the time bein'. We'll have to. But you gotta get to them. They need rescuin' bad._

_ I can feel your skepticism, Rogue. Are you and Remy actually gonna be okay?_

_ We'll have to be. _

XXXXX

Remy was in no mood for a fight.

Which was odd. Because he was always in mood for a fight. He loved fights. Fighting was fun.

But today, Remy LeBeau felt like curling up and dying in a corner. He was in no mood for a fight. He wanted to check on Rogue but he was otherwise preoccupied with the two men who appeared to want him dead.

He was in no mood for this.

It was nice of his body to try so hard, but really. It was getting a little ridiculous at this point.

Also: he discovered the pretty red diamond on Essex's head wasn't just for decoration. Apparently, it could shoot lasers out of it. Which on paper sounded stupid. But in reality, it was quite dangerous. When he dodged one of the head-lasers, the heat from it left him sweating. Remy imagined that if it made contact with it, the resulting burn would not be something he could shake off with his normal nonchalance.

Remy threw a punch at George, who did his weird inky-morph thing out of the way. He kept doing that, which was making it hard to get him out of the way, so he could focus his attention on Essex.

Speaking of Essex….

Remy backflipped out of the way of another oncoming laser. His landing did not have the typical finesse he was known for. He wobbled on his feet for a second before finding his balance once more.

Not a good sign.

Essex reached for him. Maybe if he didn't feel like death, he would have been better prepared to dodge. But he felt like death. So Essex managed to grab hold of Remy's arm and twist it behind his back. The Cajun found himself doubled over, his arm nearly breaking under the strain. He could hear bones cracking. And the pain…. It stripped the air right out of his lungs.

"You will not be—"

Whatever Essex was going to say, he didn't get to finish. Because something sent him crashing to the ground, pulling Remy down with him. The Cajun did manage to yank his arm free, cradling it to his chest as he struggled to get to his feet. A pair of bloodied, feminine hands reached out and not so gently pulled him to his feet.

Clearly, this would be the ideal time say a snappy one liner.

Remy didn't have it in him to think of something witty. He looked to Rogue, who stood panting next to him. Essex looked up at the couple, his red eyes furious.

Then, as if on cue, the distinct sound of a jet landing in the not too far distance captured everyone's attention.

A wry smirk tugged at the corners of Remy's mouth.

XXXXX

They were split into teams.

Lorna went with Hank, Emma, Amara, and agent Brown (who joined their rescue, along with her partner and few other agents Lorna had never met).

It was so weird, going back into that building she worked so hard to escape from. She had sworn up and down she would never return unless her nightmares took her back. But now she found herself not only returning, but running to get back in.

Breaking in wasn't all that hard. She was with the X-Men, so it was really a matter of deciding who would get the honor of blowing a huge hole into a wall. Scott eventually did and the teams split up to find the other prisoners. The plan was to hurry and free them, then go to Remy and Rogue.

Lorna hoped they were okay. She heard the sounds of a battle raging, but that could have been the X-Men saving the day. She doubted it was just that though.

The halls were exactly as she remembered it. Blank. Empty. Uninviting. Barren, save for a few doors. Before, Lorna had always vaguely wondered what was behind those doors but never dared to think about it too much. Now she knew that people were behind those doors. She wished she had known earlier. She would have tried to do something.

But she didn't let that thought bother her too much. She was here now.

Everyone paused, looking around them.

"Soooooo...how do we get them out?" Amara asked, looking at the heavy, metal doors.

Lorna elbowed her way past her teammates so she stood directly in front of one of the cell doors. Timidly, she lifted a hand. She could feel the power pulsing through her. From her body to the door in front of her. She glanced over her shoulder at the X-Men.

"You should move," she told them seriously.

They moved, not needing to be told twice.

Lorna looked back at the door, curling her fingers inward as if she were making a fist. As her fingers curled, the door crumpled, like she was balling up a piece of paper. It made a sickening noise as it twisted from her influence. Lorna took a moment to marvel at the power she possessed, but got back to work. She formed a fist.

The door wrenched off its hinges, crumbling like paper. With one last thought, she tossed it aside. Inside, a person lay curled up on the cot very similar to the one Lorna had slept on. Even from her spot in the entrance, several feet between them, she could see there was something unhealthy about the person's positioning. As she entered the cell, she could see it was a boy, maybe a little younger than she was. His skin was ashen, his eyes wide open yet unseeing.

Lorna's stomach dropped. She thought she might be sick. Bile rose in her throat but she forced herself to push it down. Brown elbowed her way past Lorna towards the boy. She pressed her fingers to a pulse point in his neck.

It was a nice gesture but Lorna knew it was empty.

XXXXX

Rogue was sick of this.

The ugly fight had turned brutal. They were trying to keep going until the X-Men hurried up with their rescue but Rogue wasn't sure how much more of this she could handle. She was pretty sure that one of her ribs was bruised but probably broken. She was covered in scratches and had been sliced open in so many different spots, she was sure she was losing a massive amount of blood.

Rogue used the back of her hand to wipe some of the blood on her face. She knew it smeared across her cheek but she couldn't find herself caring too much at this moment. Nor did she care about her one eye which she could barely see out of it was so swollen. She totally didn't care about how she was sweating so much that her t-shirt was clinging to her body and she was stinking up Remy's jacket.

What she cared about was Remy, who she could see fading.

The drugs Essex gave him were not taking well. She assumed all the rigorous movement he was doing was causing his heart to pound, which was causing his blood to pump faster, which meant that the drugs were traveling through his system faster.

She knew that would happen because she watched a special about snake bites. And if a venomous snake bite you, you were supposed to stay calm so the venom wouldn't travel too quickly. She imagined the same concept applied to drugs that a psycho forced into you.

Drugs that kind of looked like pudding.

But back to Remy.

He wasn't as nimble. Wasn't as graceful. His punches not as strong. His reaction time slower.

He just wasn't himself and she wasn't sure how much longer he would last. She needed to get over to him. To back him up. She needed to. It was her duty.

She wanted to. He was her Remy and no one was going to take him from her. Not now. She had so many things she needed to say to him. She didn't know what those things were but she had to save him so she had time to figure it out.

Her thoughts about hers and Remy's relationship were cut short when she received a right hook to the jaw.

Right. She should probably pay attention to the fight.

Her attacker was Gorgeous George (stupid name). Vertigo was still out cold from Rogue's absorption earlier. George had focused all his attention on her, which was great and all because now Remy could focus on Essex and Essex alone. But that also meant she was _still _fighting three to one.

She also didn't have any goodies hidden away in Remy's jacket. They had taken them all away. At the most, she found a carton of cigarettes he had stowed away in a hidden pocket that she intended to have a conversation with him about at a later date. She doubted they could be of much use, but she had made time to slip it into one of her front pockets.

Just in case.

For now, she just had to use her hand to hand work and incorporate her borrowed power into the mix. Her best advantage was that the trio she was left to deal with, didn't really work together. They just attacked her at the same time. Annoying as that may be, that also meant that they would get into each other's way.

That'll work.

She and George continued to throw and block punches. She was mostly stalling. Waiting. Waiting for when one of the other boys thought her guard was down. She waited for one of them to make an attempt to attack her from behind. And when that attack finally came, Rogue ducked. She took one moment to glance up and see it was Strong Man who had ran over to her. Now he and George had stumbled into each other. Rogue took advantage of their confusion by placing an ungloved hand behind each of their heads and slamming their skulls into the other's. The impact from the hit combined with a tiny absorption Rogue took sent the men falling to ground, out cold.

Cool.

"_Merde_!"

The French curse was accompanied by a cry that was quickly cut short by a loud crash. Rogue pivoted to see her Remy lying on the opposite side of the room, beakers and bottles and vials that were once filled with various experimental liquids, pooling around him. Glass shards were scattered around him on the ground, some pieces piercing his skin.

With great effort, Remy pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He tried to stand, but his entire body was shaking. Even before and he tried and failed to get to his feet, Rogue knew that he would not succeed.

He was down for good this time.

Rogue looked over at Essex, who had a murderous look in his eyes. He approached Remy slowly but with purpose. Menacingly. And right in that moment, it all clicked.

The X-Men would not arrive in time. Remy would not be able to defend himself anymore. Essex was going to kill him if he got close enough. And if he killed Remy, then she would never see him again.

And that thought terrified more than anything she had ever faced.

She thought she could fight it. Make herself not care so much. Maybe save some small part of heart for herself. But so long ago, it had been stolen. She didn't want him to steal her heart completely. She wanted something for herself. Just in case.

She knew better now.

It was too late. Had been for a long time. Remy LeBeau had her, heart, body and soul. She belonged to him. Scary as that may be, Rogue also knew that he had so much of her she couldn't begin to fathom a world where he wasn't there to get on her nerves.

She needed to save him. At any cost.

Earlier, she was trying to evade outright absorption so she wouldn't have to deal with psyche removal later. But Remy needed her now. So she ran and lunged at Hairball, taking his hairy, animal like face between her hands.

He dropped like a rock.

Onward to diamond forehead.

She thought that he was so preoccupied with trying to finish off her boyfriend, he wouldn't really notice her approach. But he did. When she was just inches from actually touching him, he spun around and punched her square in the chest. A hit that had dots swimming before her eyes. Just for a second, blackness engulfed her. By the time she had gathered her wits, she realized Essex was holding onto her arm.

In one motion that seemed effortless for him, he snapped it.

The sound of her arm breaking was deafening. She could hear it echoing through the lab that suddenly seemed so silent. The silence was short though, for a sob was ripped from her throat.

XXXXX

Even as doors were blasted down and lives were saved, the sound of woman's scream pierced the ears of every X-Men. The sound of it sent chills down Lorna's spine. It could have been anyone, but somewhere, in her heart of hearts, she knew it was Rogue.

So far, three mutants had turned up dead. And now, something had prompted Rogue to scream as if her life was being ripped from her.

It was too much for Lorna to tolerate. So the green haired woman turned away from her teammates and ran toward the sound of the scream, ignoring those who called after her.

XXXXX

Her arm.

Her arm, her arm, her arm.

He broke it. He broke her arm. And then he tossed her into Remy like she was a piece of garbage.

Ow. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. Owwy.

Oh god, she was going to be sick. Her arm. It was broken. He broke her arm.

Man, that really hurt.

No time to dwell on the pain. Which wasn't easy, because the pain was consuming her. Every inch of her body screamed in protest.

"_Cherie_…" a voice murmured from behind her. A hand reached out to touch her. It didn't take the pain away but it anchored her. "We can do this."

Yeah. They totally could.

Which is why Rogue made herself get to her feet. She was mindful of her arm, which hung at an unnatural, ugly angle. Behind her, Remy wobbled and teetered but found his footing too. It wasn't easy, what with the chemicals spilled around their feet that they nearly slipped in. Essex snarled at her, his expression venomous and face furious.

"My patience is thin," he told Rogue, staring her directly in the eye. She stared back, chin quivering but defiant. "I entertained your presence long enough. You are of no use to me. I want LeBeau."

It was an awful feeling.

White hot pain shot through her body. The kind of pain that was so potent that it made her know she was alive. Because if she were dead, she wouldn't have to endure such searing agony. The pain, the agony, worked its way to the base of her spine to the roots of her hair. She was alive, alright.

Death wouldn't hurt so much.

Conversely, the pain that stripped the air from her lungs also made her acutely aware of the fact that she was dying. The aching in her chest didn't subside but she could feel the life draining from her. she had faced pain before. Had tasted death. But never like this.

It was never this bad.

Behind her, a chest heaved. A hear stuttered. A hand tightened against her waist. He was so close. They were pressed together.

He was always so warm. Whereas her skin, no matter the time of the year, was always chilled, he ran hotter than most. It was all that energy twisting within him. he was always so warm. It was assuring.

He wasn't warm now.

She could feel warmth slowly fade from him. But she could at least feel his sluggish heartbeat moving almost in time with hers. That heartbeat was heaven. The heartbeat was her anchor. As long as that heart was beating, that meant that there was a chance everything would be okay.

God, how did she ever think she could stop from surrendering herself to Remy LeBeau completely in the first place?

He had stolen her heart and all it took was being tortured by a psychopathic geneticist for her to figure it out.

Sometimes, Rogue decided, she was really dense.

But even it had taken her this long to figure it out, she wasn't about to let Remy go. Chin quivering, she shook her head. Her hair was plastered to her face.

"No. You can't have him."

Essex's lip curled back, his teeth bared. "I have no qualms about killing you."

Rogue had a snappy comeback. She was ready to say it. But she became distracted by the feeling of Remy's hand slowly sliding into the pocket of his duster. She felt him lift the carton of cigarettes she had tucked away in there.

She assumed she had a plan, which was good. Until he acted on it, then she would just have to distract Essex with the snappy comeback.

…which she had forgotten.

Crap. Of course.

"You can try," she settled for, feeling lame. You can try? That's the best she could come up with? Rogue mentally scoffed herself.

Behind her, Remy waved meekly. "I hate to interrupted, but it jus' so happens that I happened to find this packet of cigarettes." Remy lifted up a single cigarette so Essex could see it. "Now, Remy ain't one for puns or anythin' but jus' know that there's one waitin' to be said 'bout how smokin' kills."

With that, Remy charged the cigarette and tossed it directly into Essex's face. Where it proceeded to explode, burning, blistering, and battering his pale features.

Again.

Despite all the trauma she had endured, Rogue couldn't help but be annoyed that her boyfriend was able to think of witty things to say when she couldn't.

Bastard.

Essex howled in pain and Remy wasted not a moment to take the remaining cigarettes, charge them, then drop them on the ground. Into the chemicals pooled around their feet.

It was a gamble assuming that those chemicals were flammable. But a gamble worth taking, apparently, because they instantly went up in flames. It wouldn't take long for the fire to spread, bring the lab down.

It was that moment the door to the lab was ripped off its hinges. Rogue rolled her eyes.

_Now _the cavalry decided to arrive?

XXXXX

"Get of here! Now!" Lorna barked, trying not to be too sickened at the sight of Remy and Rogue. How the two were still standing was beyond her. Rogue was bruised and scratched, one of her eyes swollen shut, and her arm quite clearly broken. And Remy looked as if he might just keel over and die right then and there, glass shards on various points on his naked torso. For the first time since Lorna had met him, Remy LeBeau wasn't attractive.

Yeah. It was _that _bad.

Around her, flames danced as they engulfed the room. A sweat was already forming on her forehead and upper lip. Sinister stood, looking stunned and injured, at all his work going up in flames around him. His face was healing but was still smoking a little, blistered and burnt.

Lorna imagined Remy had something to do with that.

Scattered about on the ground were Sinister's men. Since they were rather unconscious, she figured they wouldn't be the problem.

So it would just be her and Sinister. Just like she wanted.

"Get out!" she hollered, pointing at the exit she had created. Remy and Rogue hesitated.

"What about you?"

"_Just go_!"

They didn't need to be told another time. They wrapped their arms each other and limped toward the door. As they exited, she heard Remy murmuring an apology to Rogue. Something about how he would be happy to carry her if it weren't for the fact his arms felt like they were going to fall off.

Whatever.

They hobbled out, leaving Lorna and Sinister together. He charged her. Which she had been expecting. So her reaction time was on point. She lifted a hand and channeled her magnetic powers to throw the operating table into Sinister, sending him crashing down.

Cool.

While he was down, she ripped the legs off the table. She manipulated their shape so they were curved. With that done, she pinned Sinister to the ground with the twisted metal, leaving his ankles and wrists restrained. But she knew better than to believe that he wasn't strong enough to escape her restraints.

Around her, the fire was spreading and rapidly so. The material of Rogue's uniform was sticking to her body, her green locks drooping as of a result of the sweat that was pouring off her body. It was seriously gross.

Freaking gross.

Smoke stung her eyes and filled her lungs. Even as she watched herself getting sweet revenge, she knew that she had to hurry. If she stayed in here much longer, she wouldn't be able to get out.

Heh. It was kind of funny. Revenge was a dish best served cold but here she was in the middle of a fire. Ha.

Back to business.

Knowing that the second he gathered her wits, Sinister would be able to escape, Lorna decided she was fix that problem. She focused her attention on him. Imagined his cold heart beating in his chest. The flow of his blood. The iron in his blood. And with the blink of her green eyes, she reversed the flow his blood, instantly knocking him unconscious.

If agent Kaufman or the X-Men arrived in time to save him, that was fine.

But Lorna Dane had no intentions of saving Nathaniel Essex from the hell on earth he helped create.

"You know what's funny?" she asked the unconscious body, tears spilling over onto her cheeks. "I couldn't have been able to do that blood reversal move if it weren't for you. It's a result of your experiments."

She stared a moment longer. At the burning room. At all of his work that cost mutants their lives burning. At the man who lay on the floor. The man who may or may not burn with his beloved research.

Lorna looked a moment longer, then turned to leave.

"Yippie-ki-yay."

**XXXXX**

** Okay. Wow. This chapter was a doozey. But I'm satisfied with it. I'm sorry for being so mean to Remy and Rogue, but I don't imagine that if this were to happen, they would get away with only a few cuts and bruises. **

** Phew. **

** Two chapters left now. **

**NEXT CHAPTER: Remy, Rogue, and Lorna tell the honest to god truth. **


	20. The Honest To God Truth

**IMPORTANT NOTE THAT EVERYONE SHOULD READ: go to my profile and please vote on the poll I made. It's a poll asking which chapter story you would like to see me do next. There are three options, one of which is the third and final story in the Knee High Socks series (which wasn't supposed to be a series when I first started it) called Thigh High Boots.**

**Remember when I told you to remember that a few chapter back?**

**Anyway, three options. Go vote so I can write what you wanna read. **

**Moving on….**

**This is the second to last chapter**! **I can't believe it's here.**

**Brsk: thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I'm so glad that you caught up with me finally. Also. Your Button Down Shirt idea is so awesome I'm totally gonna write it as one-shot mini-sequel. **

**xLeBeaux: so glad you enjoyed it.**

**sparky: thank, buddy.**

**lina: I'm glad you thought the chapter was good.**

**Thank you everyone who's been reading and reviewing. I'm glad you like it and I hope you enjoy these last couple of chapters. **

**XXXXX **

"I am so confused."

"Completely understandable. But, I do have some questions for you—"

"I have some questions myself."

"One's I'll be happy to answer if you would just—"

"Where's Rogue? Is she okay? I haven't seen her since I woke up."

"Remy, you slept for almost a week. She stayed beside you almost the whole time. After she finished being treated of course."

"…treated for what? How hurt is she?"

"It's not too bad, Remy. But she was real beat up. A broken rib. A broken arm. Sliced open more times than I could count. Ugliest shiner I've ever seen on a woman. She took a bad beating but she's okay. But your X-Men called some fellow in who's a healer. Made the broken arm a fracture and the broken rib bruised."

"So…she's okay?"

He nodded. "She will be. Your girl is a trooper."

Remy lifted his chin with pride. "Course she is. I coulda told you that. "

The men exchanged small smiles.

"What's wrong wit' me?" Remy asked after a pause. "I mean, I know I feel like hell two times over. But what exactly is my problem?"

"Whatever Nathaniel Essex pumped into you, your body didn't take to it very well. You've spent the last several days with a fever of sorts as it worked its way outta your system. Not to mention you were pretty banged up too. And concussed. And in need of a haircut." Mick scratched his thin thoughtfully. "But we didn't fix that one. That's on you."

"Am I gonna be okay?"

"From what Dr. McCoy told me, you should be fine. You and Rogue both will have to take it easy for awhile but you'll be back to yourself in no time. Now. I really need to ask you about the events that—"

"Does that mean no more rough sex?"

"Uhh…no. Not for awhile."

"_Merde_."

Mick cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Now, about what happened. I need you to tell me—"

"What happened to the others?"

"The others?"

"Essex and his flunkies. There was a fire and everyone was unconscious. 'Cept for Essex but I think Lorna did somethin' 'bout that…." Remy frowned. "What happened wit' Lorna and him anyway?"

"According to Miss Dane, she left Essex unconscious and bound to the floor while the fire raged. She left and did not look back. When the X-Men and myself arrived to pull the survivors from the fire, we were able to locate and save all but Essex and the one they called Hairball. After the fire was out, we returned. We found a deceased Hairball but Essex was nowhere to be found."

"No body? No…nothin'?"

"Nothing. But we can't find a place where he could have escaped from. And the fire was an ugly one. How he could have survived, we can't figure out. But where he is…."

"You don' know that either, eh?"

"No."

"How's Lorna?"

"She seems…fine."

"Fine," Remy repeated slowly. Skeptically.

"She isn't really talking about much. Been keeping to herself."

"Is she in trouble? For…ya know."

"No." Mick's eyes darted around the room nervously. Remy noted how he refused to make eye contact. "I uh…I made sure of that."

"You're a good friend, Mick."

"Friend?"

"Best friend."

"About that Remy—"

"I don' got a lotta friends in the world. I mean, I got the X-Men but they're like family. But friends? My best friend is this pyromaniac. Kinda nutty but in an endearin' way, you know?"

"I do not know."

Remy chuckled. "You're funny, Mick. I love keepin' you 'round."

"Remy, I am a federal agent. Friendships with people I once arrested isn't exactly…prudent. Maintaining friendships in general is actually quite difficult. I say this because—"

"'Cause you want me to know how much effort your puttin' into a friendship. You want me to appreciate it. Let me know how much I mean to you. Trust me, Mick, ol' friend, I know."

"Remy, that's not—"

"I know we met under strange circumstances—"

"You beheaded the Statue of Liberty," he interrupted dryly.

"—but it means a whole lot that you put up wit' me and my quirks."

"_Quirks_?"

"You're a good friend, Mick."

The agent sighed, shaking his head in defeat. But he did muster a small smile for the Cajun that so insistently wanted to be his friend.

"You too, Remy." He straightened his shoulders, his posture and expression serious once more. "Now. I do have some questions about what happened while you were being held with Essex."

"Can I ask one more question, _sil vous plait_?"

"What is it Remy?"

"Whatever happened to my motorcycle?"

XXXXX

Remy felt awful.

Not just because he had a concussion. Not just because his body felt like it had been run over by a steam roller. Not just because he still felt kind of queasy. Not just because he probably should have listened to Hank and remained in bed, rather than sneaking out.

Remy LeBeau hadn't seen his girlfriend since he woke up. He hope that while Mick was interviewing him, Rogue would walk back in and they could have a joyous, non-rough-sex-filled reunion. But the girl with the streaks in her hair had remained missing.

He had a few questions for her, too.

Like…where did they stand as a couple? He wasn't sure. Hadn't been sure for quite some time, since Rogue had been acting so strangely for the past several weeks. Then he gave her the gloves but never had a chance to really discuss them. Nor did they have a chance for Rogue to show her gratitude for her long black gloves in a possibly rough sex filled manner.

That really sucked.

And since he was thinking of sex (as usual), Remy recalled his tryst with Rogue in Essex's holding cell. He didn't know what was going on in her head—the telepathic link they shared apparently wasn't _that _helpful—but he felt like there was a shift. Something in regards t how she felt about him changed. Grew. Shrank maybe. He wasn't sure.

Then there was the way, after having her arm broken like a mint flavored toothpick, she stood up in front of him. Not only to protect him, but to fight beside him.

That had to have been a good sign. Right?

Remy didn't know. But he wanted to know.

Now if only he could find his fractured girlfriend. …

This was his finale thought before a bruised but slender hand reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He was then promptly yanked into a closet, the door closed and locked behind him.

Heh. Well.

This was a change of pace.

XXXXX

"I heard a rumor you were looking to talk to me."

Bobby dropped the controller in his hand. There weren't a whole lot of people or things in the world to stop Robert Drake in the middle of a game of _Call Of Duty_, but when he heard Lorna Dane's soft voice beckoning him from the doorway, he forgot his game.

He would forget a million games of _Call Of Duty_ if it meant he had Lorna's attention.

She was standing in his doorway, wearing a long sleeved red blouse and dark pants. It was weird, how she didn't look bad in red, what with her having green hair and all. But aside from her outfit, he was fascinated with the odd look in her eyes. The way she was staring at him, like she had come to some sort of decision involving him, but wasn't sure how to go about telling him.

Which didn't seem like a good thing.

Bobby turned off his game counsel without saving his progress (a move he instantly regretted) and stood up straight. Then he remembered he was in a t-shirt and boxers, not exactly his most attractive look. He frantically searched his floor for a pair of pants but found none.

"Uhh," he grunted, ducking behind his bed, hoping maybe that he had something to cover with up on the floor there. He didn't see anything, including the boots Remy had left on the floor. Bobby tripped over them and fell face first on the ground. He heard Lorna laugh from the door.

This was going to be a disaster.

He should put on pants. So not to make her uncomfortable. Unless…maybe she thought he looked cute without pants. Maybe? Which boxers was he wearing, anyway? He glanced back and saw they were black.

Black was good.

And the t-shirt did show off his arms. Admittedly, he may not have been as buff as some of his older teammates, but his biceps were nothing to laugh at. From his spot on the floor, he flexed.

Yeah. Not bad.

Okay. Yeah. He wasn't putting on pants.

Bobby hopped back to his feet, smoothing the hair from his face. Hmm. He hadn't shaved in awhile. Maybe Lorna would like stubble….

"Hey. What's up?"

Lorna smiled at him. "I heard that you wanted to talk to me."

"Yeah. You wanna come in?" he asked, gesturing at his bed. Lorna nodded and entered, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Bobby sat down next to her.

"Sorry I've sorta been missing these past couple of days." She pushed the hair out of her face. "I needed…" She drew in a deep breath. Bobby tried not to notice what the breathing did to her breasts. "I just needed some time to myself."

"Err, yeah. I heard what happened." He cleared his throat. "With Sinister."

She was looking at her hands in her lap, her fingers fiddling with her blouse. She was refusing to look him dead in the eye. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Decided not to. Not yet, anyway.

"Oh?" she asked, trying and almost succeeding at sounding casual. "What did you hear, exactly?"

"That you were tortured by Sinister. That he hurt you and scarred you bad. And that when we went to rescue the others, you found him and didn't do anything to save him from the fire."

She stared at her hands. Not speaking. Bobby so wanted to reach out and touch her. Just a comforting hand on her shoulder. A hug. Whatever she needed from him most. He would do it. But right now, it looked like she wanted him to sit there and listen. And he would do that.

Besides, for the first time in their relationship, she approached him. It was a start.

"Bobby," she whispered, still not looking at him. "Do you know that there were fifteen mutants being held by Sinister when we got there?"

"Yes…."

"Then you know that three were dead when we arrived and two more passed after the rescue?"

"Yeah…."

"And the ones who survived…." She frowned, her little hands forming a fist. "They're so sick. So messed up. Way worse off than I am. And I'm not in the best condition either."

"You seem fine to me, Lor."

She finally looked at him. Her green eyes were dark and steely. Without a word, she shifted on the bed and turned her back to him. She lifted her shirt.

The excitement that bubbled in his chest died instantly when he saw the many scars running along Lorna's back. Small ones. Long ones. Ugly ones. Still fading. Still fresh. Without thinking, he reached out to touch her back. He was sure she would flinch away.

But she didn't.

She let him run his hand along the plains of her back. Between her shoulder blades. Down the length of her spine. Over her black bra strap. All the way down to the small of her back. He could feel her breathing stutter. But she didn't say anything. And neither did he.

He was sad. He was angry. He wanted to pull her close and make it better. He didn't know what to do but he wanted to do something for her. He didn't even know what to say to her.

"Lorna," he breathed.

"I have nightmares, too. They're better now. But that man made me afraid to wear my hair down or use my powers. I can't sleep peacefully." She shivered as he continued to caress her scarred back. "And I got off easy. Bobby."

"Yeah, Lor?" He peeked over her shoulder so he could see her face. With her head bowed, and hair falling around her face, she was a picture of distressed, beautiful femininity.

Distressed femininity? What the hell?

This chick was turning him into a sap.

"I didn't not save Sinister." She drew in another deep breath. "I left him there. I _trapped _him there. _I wanted him to die_. And you know the worst part?"

He swallowed. "What?"

In a swift movement, she yanked her shirt back down and turned to face him once more. "I don't regret anything. And I've spent the past couple of days trying to sort things out. Talking to the police. Talking to the Professor. Talking to Logan. He was the most helpful. And I spent so much time thinking. Trying to figure out how I felt about what I did. Trying to feel guilty. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't.

"I'm not a killer, Bobby. I'm really not. Not really. But he…he was evil. He was so evil and he hurt so many people. Not just me. You saw what he did to Rogue and Remy. How messed up they were. I'll never forget Rogue's scream when he broke her arm." She squeezed her eyes shut, deep in thought. "I don't regret what I did and the craziest thing is, I don't even know if he's really dead. Maybe he is. Maybe he isn't. But whatever happens, I'm willing to deal with the consequences. "

He watched a single tear roll down her cheek. She quickly brushed it aside.

"Even if that makes me a little bit of a monster, too," she finished.

Yeah. No. Okay. He was through with not touching. Whether she liked it or not, she was getting hugged. And when Bobby took her by the shoulders and pulled her close, he was surprised that Lorna allowed for this to happen. Not only did she allow it to happen, but she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him back. She didn't cry.

Just hugged.

And it was nice. Not nice that she was upset. But it was nice that she finally let him help her. She never cried or anything. But they sat there and hugged for a very long time. He rocked her a little bit in his arms. She seemed to like that. He could feel her breath on his chest. Smell her hair.

It smelled minty, which he found somewhat humorous.

They might have sat like that for hours. He didn't know. Eventually though, he broke the silence.

"You aren't a monster, Lorna."

She pulled out the hug just a little. Pressed her hands to the upper part of his arm. She was so close….

"Thank you, Bobby."

"You're welcome." He smiled at her. She smiled back.

"Hey, Bobby."

"Yeah, Lor?"

"Are you flexing your bicep muscles?"

"What? No."

He totally was.

"Hey, Lorna."

"Yeah, Bobby?"

"Not that I'm complaining or anything, but why did you come here? I mean…what do you want from me? 'Cause I'll be more than happy to give it to you. But I wanna know what you need."

"You want the honest to god truth?"

"Please."

To his utter shock, she lifted a hand and stroked his face. He was going to faint. He was going to grin happily. He was going to have to hope, due to her face touching and close proximity, that he was going to be able to exact some self control.

Deep breaths, Bobby. Deep breaths.

"I'm messed up, Bobby," she said matter of factly. "I am. I have a lot going for me but I also have a lot of things not in my favor too. And with everything that just happened with Sinsiter, I don't know how much more messed up I'll be."

She caressed him again.

"But I like you. I like you . I do. I'm not sure how much. I know I wanna figure it out, though." She leaned in a little closer. Now he could feel her breath on his face. "But you need to know everything. About me. Know if you want to put up with someone like me. You'll have to take it slow with me, because I'm still kinda…fragile. But I'm hoping if I tell you the honest to god truth, maybe you'll give me a chance."

Here was his moment. His chance to say the one liner that would secure him a place in Lorna's heart. He looked at her beautiful face. Her wide, vulnerable eyes. Her delicate mouth. Her long lashes.

And coherent though t abandoned him.

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

He was struggling to remember how to breathe right now. How the hell was he supposed to tell her yes?

The most he could was nod. Nod his head vigorously.

It seemed to be enough. Because Lorna broke out in a large smile and leaned up until there was only a breath of space between their faces.

"You're a good guy, Bobby Drake," she murmured, pressing her mouth to his.

Finally.

XXXXX

Remy flipped a light on, leaning against the door.

"Well, this is different," he said, lifting an eyebrow as he regarded Rogue, who stood across from him. His heart cracked a little at the sight of her. Some of the swelling had gone down but her eye still looked awful. Her face was riddled with various bruises and little cuts. On her arm was a cast.

"You look like shit," Rogue told him, her eyes roving him casually.

"Like you're much of a vision right now," he countered.

She grinned a little at his jab. "You need a haircut."

"I know. But you don't."

She reached out to touch her hair. It was falling past her shoulders now. And apparently she hadn't been flat ironing it either, because it was waving as it did naturally. In fact, the waves had almost become curls.

He liked it.

She wasn't wearing make-up either. He loved her make-up free face. It made the green in her eyes really pop. Her lips looked pinker. Lovelier. She looked softer somehow. Still tough as nails. But without the make-up and with the longer hair, she looked more like herself. A strong women with a gentle interior.

Without thinking, Remy reached out and cupped her face in his hands. At the touch of his hands, he felt her soften and relax under her touch. He tilted her chin back so he could press a feather light kiss to her blackened eye, then to the cut on the corner on her mouth. To the bruise on her cheek. The cut on her chin.

"You are perfection," he told her, leaning down to whisper into her ear. His cheek was pressed to hers.

"I'm broken, Rems."

"Never."

He felt her smile. "You like the bruised look?"

"I like the natural look. Bruises and all."

She wrapped her arms around him, in a hug. He returned her embrace, mindful of her ribs. Carefully, so not to do either one of them harm, he pressed his forehead to hers. For a long time, in the confines of the closet she had locked him in, they just stood there. Holding each other and enjoying the sounds of the other breathing.

Remy was still worried about the status of their relationship. But in those long moments spent together in the closet, he thought that maybe everything would turn out okay. He was sure of it.

"Where were you after I woke up?" he asked.

"I sat with you for the longest time but I had to go get fitted for a new uniform."

"You're gettin' a new one?"

"I'm givin' Lorna the old one. It looks good on her. 'Sides, I think it's time for a change."

"Oh, _oui_. Me too. I think this change should include black leather. 'Member that sexy little getup the Hellfire Club but you in a few months back? I like that. You should wear that. Do you still have that?"

"Remy…" she sighed, sounding exasperated.

He chose to ignore her. "If you still have it, you should wear it. Even if you don' wear it as a uniform, you should wear it 'round the house. And by the house, I mean my bedroom. In my bed. Wit' me. Naked."

"LeBeau."

"You aren' naked though. I'm naked. You're wearin' the leather thing."

"Swamp Rat."

"With chocolate."

"Gambit."

"And knee high socks. Of course."

"Cajun."

"We went from Remy to Cajun in less than a minute. Is that a new record?"

She closed her eyes, seeming to ask for patience. After a long moment, she opened her eyes back up and smiled tiredly at him. "Yes, Remy, that is a new record."

He basked in his ability to irk his girlfriend a few seconds longer before returning to the conversation.

"So you're gettin' a new uniform, eh?"

"Yup."

"What's it look like?"

"It just black." She shrugged. "With a belt."

He rubbed his cheek against hers, careful not to disrupt any of their cuts or bruises. "I'm positive you will be exquisite in it."

"If you think sweet talkin' is gonna get you outta the trouble you're in for lettin' Essex take you in the first place, you're wrong." She lifted her hand to punch him, realized her punching arm was also the fractured arm, and dropped it. She settled for narrowing her eyes at him. "When we're finished healin', I am so kickin' your ass."

"Oh, _Cherie_, I wouldn' have it any other way."

Then he kissed her. Because why the hell not?

He loved her. He loved her terribly. Loving Rogue made Remy think of something he heard in high school. Some theory with a fancy name that he couldn't remember. Not that he remembered a whole lot from high school in the first place. But he did remember that the theory said that energy could not be created or destroyed. It could change forms.

Well, Remy LeBeau was just full of energy. It was what his mutant power was centered around. He liked to believe that after he was gone—probably in an awesome battle where he saved the day and was shirtless and sexy—he would at least exist as energy. Somewhere.

And Rogue? She was full of life. Fire. Energy. Bright, burning, emerald energy that would never cease to exist.

That romantic side of Remy that he liked to keep mostly secret hoped and believed that even after they were gone, even if the world imploded on itself and nothing was left but darkness, they would be together beyond eternity. Twisting and curling around one another as energy, never destroyed.

He sighed inwardly. This woman was making him into a total wuss. She was ruining his good reputation as a badass Casanova. She was making him thinking of loving her beyond eternity. Next thing he knew, he would be reciting sonnets or poems or odes or whatever the hell it is writers and love sick saps do.

He needed to get it together.

But if he did get it together, he wouldn't be able to experience the high he got whenever he kissed, touched, was around Rogue. And oh, what a high it was.

Dammit. He was going to stay a wuss for Rogue. She was worth it. Even if it did mean he had to lose a little bit of his badassery.

There was still no way that he was writing a poem for her.

Eventually, the two decided that they needed to breathe so they parted. But he still wasn't quite through with her. He continued to cradle her face tenderly and rain kisses down on every injury he could find.

She stroked his arm gently with her undamaged arm. She inhaled his scent—which probably wasn't all that nice considering he was just waking up from a feverish delirium—and seemed generally pleased with him.

It felt like the world—his world—was right again.

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.

"Rogue."

"Yes, Remy?"

"Are we okay?"

He didn't have to say anymore. She seemed to know exactly what he meant. She lifted a hand. Ran it through his too long hair a few times.

It felt very nice.

Ah, the things he would do to her if it weren't for the fact he felt like he'd been used as Wolverine's punching bag….

Right. He had sworn off rough sex for the time being. He would just have to keep that in mind.

No rough sex, no rough sex, no rough sex, no rough sex….

Even if rough sex was really fun.

Remy whimpered a little, then looked back at his girlfriend.

"I was goin' through somethin', Rems. And it ain't worth explainin' 'cause it was me bein' stupid. But just know that I'm over that stupid stuff. Just know that I'm yours." She kissed the corner of his mouth. "I love you, Remy LeBeau. I really do."

"_Je t'aime aussi, mon couer. Je t'aime_, Anna."

It was a wonderful moment. One he would remember for years to come. One to be cherished and enjoyed for as long as possible.

So _of course _Wolvie decided that at that moment, he was going to pound on the closet door, ending his and Rogue's beautiful moment.

"Seriously?" he yelled, slamming his fists to the door. Remy's back was still against it so he shook with each pound. "Am I gonna have to muzzle you two? Get the hell outta here before I end you, LeBeau!"

He was going to say something smart. Something that would probably serve to only make Logan angrier. But, at the last second, he saw Rogue smile and roll her eyes. Then she reached behind him.

He should have known what she was going to do.

But he didn't. Which is how Remy LeBeau ended up lying flat on his back as a result of Rogue opening the closet door, sending him crashing to the ground. He tilted his head back and saw Logan standing in front of him, his eyes wide in confusion. Remy looked back at Rogue, who regarded them both with a smug look.

"Logan," she said, stepping over Remy's prone body as if he wasn't even there. Which he was fine with, because he got an awesome view of Rogue's toned little tushy. Remy was actually quite content to sit back and admire the view.

He watched as her and her lovely butt walked over to Logan and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

"I love you, Logan. You're like a dad to me. So I really appreciate you lookin' out for me. But me and Remy have been doin' this thing for awhile now and I have yet to get pregnant, catch any sort of STD, get my heart broken—"

"You did get a broken arm though," Remy added helpfully from his spot on the floor. Rogue kicked him.

"—and he's taken good care of me. I take care of him. And Logan, I can take care of me too. I don't expect you to stop monitorin' us or stop interruptin' our moments or makin' life hard on us in general—"

"Better not," the gruff man grumbled miserably, glaring at Remy. Remy continued to stare at Rogue's butt.

"But if every now and then, you turned your back and let us have a little…." She shrugged. "Us time, I promise to continue to keep not gettin' pregnant or STDs or heartbroken."

"Are you sayin' that if I don't turn my back, you will start doin' them things?" he challenged, his ever present scowl deepening.

Rogue shook her head, her long hair sweeping along her shoulders. Remy liked how it looked when she did that.

He also really liked her butt.

Hmm…her butt…chocolate….

Nah. Too far.

"I'm not sayin' that at all," she told him. Then she smiled. A little smile. A mischievous, naughty little smile that instantly got Remy's full attention. "I'm just askin' for a little trust on your part. Either way, I'm gonna make sure Remy stays on his best behavior." Over her shoulder, she winked at him. Gave him a look that let him know that she had no intention of doing that at all. "That's the honest to god truth, Logan."

Remy had to stop himself from snorting.

That was about as truthful as "thief's honor" was trustworthy.

He knew he loved that woman for a reason.

XXXXX

**Up next…the epilogue. **

** One thing I should mention: this scene was really inspired by the song Ad Infinitum by this dude named PAZ. PAZ is awesome. You should really check out the song because it is absolutely gorgeous. And when you're done with that, you should go and vote on what story you want next. **

**Vote, vote, vote, vote!**


	21. The Epilogue

**The moment has arrived. **

**The last chapter. The epilogue. **

**Can you believe it's here? I can't. **

**Well….**

**Anonymous: I really appreciate your review and have taken your vote into consideration. I'm quite pleased to know you are enjoying yourself. **

**Brsk: thank you again for the review and sorry about the confusion. I'm super excited about writing your one-shot. **

**lina: I have a couple name for Bobby and Lorna. Lobby, haha.**

**Zany: closet scenes are super awesome. I want as many of them as possible. And yes, a new uniform. The old one was just awful and it's time Roguey upgraded. And I think Remy does his little "being annoying" bit because he's Remy but it makes itself more known when he's nervous. And btw: you're Remy is super awesome, too. **

**Everyone else: thank you for sticking with me this whole time. I am endlessly thankful and hope you enjoy the epilogue. **

XXXXX

Logan's job was never done.

He had to be one of the main lines of defense for a school just teeming with children. He had to somehow cope with all of his emotional baggage without becoming too much more of a basket case. He was supposed to fight people who wanted mutants oppressed and the world destroyed without killing them.

Do you know how hard it is for Logan to _not_ kill? It isn't easy.

He had to get his daily dose of beer and cigars while somehow not letting the students think it was okay to drink and smoke. He had to listen to girls squeal about some Bieber kid and act like he gave two shits. He had to be a mother hen and still come out looking like a badass.

And in all of his badassery, he still had to be a good influence around the kids.

Whoever thought it was a good idea for Logan to be around children was crazy. And whoever thought that putting him around children so he could be a good influence needed some serious psychiatric help.

He grunted as he perused the halls of the mansion, making sure all was right. It was a Sunday night, so most of the high school students were enjoying their last hours of freedom before they had to go to bed for school in the morning. While they were off getting a public education, he would be finishing up repairing the foyer for Essex's little break in. Most of the damage had been repaired but now there was some cosmetic work to be finished.

His job was never done.

He was going to go to the game room, where he suspected most of the students to congregate at. But before he was even half way there, his ears picked up the sounds of X-Kids making odd noises.

"Ooooooohhhhhh," they said in unison, sounding like an old comedy laugh track. Or an "oooh" track. Whatever. Either way it wasn't a good noise. It wasn't the kind of noise he wanted to hear in a mansion full of children just pumping with excess hormones.

Teenagers, he thought with a sneer.

He picked up the pace a bit when he heard several people murmur "Sexy" and "Mr. Logan is gonna _kill _you."

Chances are, if someone said "Mr. Logan is gonna kill you," they were completely, absolutely, undeniably, unquestionably correct.

When he finally reached the game room, he found Gumbo and Stripes. Gumbo in a black button down shirt that was a bit too tight that he probably put on to "subtly" show off those muscles he so loved to flaunt.

Stupid Cajun.

And Stripes? She was wearing some red top that was a bit too tight for his liking, along with some jeans, and black knee high boots he most certainly had a problem with. After he finished eviscerating Gumbo, he and Stripes were going to have a nice, long conversation on her clothing choices. The only thing she had on that he was okay with was a pair of gloves. Long black ones with pearl buttons.

Logan could tell just from their appearance that they were quite expensive. Something in his gut told him the Cajun had something to do with it.

Damn Cajun.

The gloves were very nice and fit Stripes like a…well. Like a glove.

He wasn't good at analogies. Or similes. Maybe he was thinking of a metaphor?

Whatever.

He was the best at what he does and what he does isn't freaking English. He kills things. That's his thing. Beast was the one who knew words.

Logan just _wished _someone would try to correct his syntax or whatever. If he wanted to end a sentence with a preposition, he would end it with a preposition, dammit.

He lost his train of thought.

Right. Gumbo and Stripes.

It wasn't what they were wearing that upset him the most. What upset him was that they were doing.

Again.

Stripes was curled around like Gumbo until they were so pressed together, they were almost one person. And Gumbo had his hands a little too low for his liking. And they had their tongues shoved down each other's throats. Seriously. They probably knew what the other person had for breakfast.

He was backing her toward the pool table. The very same pool table where Elf and the annoying Boy Scout were actively playing a game of pool. They weren't playing well but they were playing. Not that the two horndogs seemed to notice. Or care.

He growled and stomped into the room.

"GUMBO! STRIPES!"

They jumped apart like someone dunked a bucket of water on them. Which was good. Stripes bit her lip, reaching for the Cajun's hand.

Like that would help.

Logan took the pretty boy by his pretty shirt and dragged him back into the hall. He chose to ignore the snickers and pitying looks the kids gave Gumbo. Instead, he took the young man and shoved him against a wall, still maintaining a solid grip on his stupid button down shirt.

"I am gonna end you, LeBeau," he snarled, trying to figure out the longest, most drawn out way to neuter the boy. "Give me one reason—one god damn reason—why I shouldn't chop your head off right here and now and serve the rest of you up as Cajun style kabobs for dinner."

Remy gulped. "Well…for one, servin' me up as dinner is considered cannibalism and Remy don' think Charlie is gonna be too okay wit' that."

"Gumbo…" he growled, aching to pop a claw and slice off all of the Cajun's pretty, too long hair.

"_And_," he added hastily, "'cause Remy loves Rogue deeply and she loves me. If you chop off my head, Rogue'll be awfully upset."

Logan snarled but said nothing. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder at the girl with the stripes in her hair. She was fiddling with the material of her gloves, an anxious expression on her face. He thought back to the day not so long ago. How she pleaded for a little bit more privacy. How she promised to keep the Cajun on his best behavior.

Like he believed that for a second, but whatever.

He loved Rogue. You wouldn't get him to admit out loud unless he absolutely had to but he loved the kid like his own daughter. The one thing he wanted for Stripes was for her to be safe.

And happy.

Making out with the Cajun seemed to make her happy, even if it baffled him to an endless degree. The Cajun seemed to make her happy, something he didn't even attempt to understand. All he knew—all he needed to know—was that was what she wanted. That and occasionally to have him look the other way.

Logan grunted.

He turned back to Gumbo, who was watching him oddly.

"Do you love Rogue?" he barked.

"_Oui_."

Logan ticked off each point on his fingers. "Don't hurt her, don't kidnap her again, don't try an' make her do anythin' she don't wanna do, don't use her, don't take advantage of her, and don't break her heart. If you do one—just one of those things I said—then I swear I will chop you up into so many pieces, they will never find all of them. Do you understand me, Cajun?"

"_Oui_," Gumbo said, nodding vigorously.

Logan grunted again, pulling the Cajun away from the wall and shoving him toward the door to the game room. "Then get the hell outta my sight before I change my mind."

To his annoyance, Gumbo just stood there, looking all clueless and stupid, blinking at him with his red and black eyes.

"Really?" he asked, looking from him to Rogue and back again. "You're jus' gonna…let me go? Like that? So I can go and do…things wit' Rogue?"

"Don't push your luck." He shoved the Cajun into the game room, toward Stripes. Not needing any more of a hint, Gumbo scooped Stripes into his arm, planting another entirely inappropriate kiss right there on her mouth.

"And don't get used to it!" Logan yelled into the room before he turned his back and went in the opposite direction. The stupid things he did for love….

He needed a beer.

As he left, he heard the sound of feet following him down the hall. Moments later, Red appeared by his side. She looked absolutely shocked and disgusted.

"Logan," she said, sounding anxious. The kid really needed to learn to chill out a little. She was going to go gray before she hit twenty one. "Are you really just going to let them do…that? Right there? On the pool table? I mean…Logan!"

"Red," he said as calmly as possible, "if there's one thing I understand is how nice a little privacy is from time to time."

"But…but…but…" she stuttered, "it isn't private! They're doing it. In front of everyone!"

"Well then maybe y'all outta head to a different room if you don't wanna see that."

"But—"

"Goodbye, Red."

As Logan continued toward the kitchen, he noticed movement in a darker, more secluded corner of the mansion. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was Ice-Boy and Green.

Also making out.

He considered the young couple briefly. He recalled how he had just been forgiving with Stripes and Gumbo. He recalled how privacy in a mansion teeming with people was hard to come by. He thought about what it was like to be young and in love.

And then he decided that, even if he was forgiving, he wasn't _that _forgiving.

"Green! Ice-Boy! I swear if you two don't break it up then I will slice your tongues off so you can't use them for what you plannin' on usin' them for! Am I clear?"

They nodded and he just wished he had a beer.

His job was never done.

**The End**

**XXXXX**

**The end…for now. Mwhahahahha!**

**Um…anyway. Look out for the mini-sequel, Button Down Shirts, which should be up semi-soon. Until then, keep voting (if you haven't already) and look out for more one-shots and my next chapter story. **

**Thank you so much for sticking with me through this story. It's been so much fun and I can't wait to get back with you all soon. **

**So until we meet again…**

**-M.A.**


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